So I Stole the Moon…
Life is like a spinning record; that's what I used to say. The record starts at sunrise, and plays it's tune. Placing one foot in front of the other we dance about the day, repeating the choreography that we've recited so many times before. Then, once our feet have grown heavy and our eyelids begin a fight to stay open, we stop the record and flip it over, hoping that it will play a different tune in the morning. It doesn't. The record starts at sunrise, and it's the exact same song.
And so, life becomes a spinning record, and instead of switching out the track we just flip the record over and pray.
But not me. One night I decided that I wanted a different tune. I searched day after day, but every record I found was the exact same thing, just a repeat of the last. I was beginning to give up hope...
So I stole the moon.
Late at night, when all the good children were in their rooms dreaming of a land far far away, I climbed into the sky and swam about the stars! Soon I found what I was looking for, and wrapped my fingers around it.
To my surprise, the moon was the same size as a record. My heart filled with hope as I fell back down to Earth, wondering what kind of beautiful music the moon would play.
My record- the one I had listened to, and danced to all my life- became a pile of broken vinyl beneath my boot.
I placed the moon upon my record player and watched as it began to spin.
I cannot describe the music it created. It was perfect. The highs were high and the lows were low. The tempo beat with the pounding of my heart, and I knew that I had finally found the missing piece to the puzzle of my life!
The next morning I set out to face the day. However, the moon's music- beautiful as it was- was so foreign to me, and I did not know how to dance to it. I tried, and I fell, time and time again. The world around me pointed and laughed, and I kept dancing my crooked dance. And I fell. And I fell.
At long last I returned home, tired and pained. My heart beat was now a reflection of rage as I starred at the moon, spinning on my record player. Why was it so beautiful? I began to cry.
And so, tired and bruised, I once again took the moon into my grasp. I left home, and began to walk, and continued to walk. I walked farther than I ever had before, out of the city and through plains of golden wheat. I walked over the mountains and kept walking, until I found a crystal clear lake surrounded by beautiful flowers. Above me the stars in the night sky we're restless- they wanted their moon back.
With a final farewell I threw the moon up, as hard as I could! And just like that it was gone. The light from the moon danced across the lake like tiny ballerinas, and the flowers bloomed all shades of beautiful colors. The moon was where it belonged again.
However, as I turned back to the city, my feet refused to move. I didn't want to go back. So, instead, I took a seat at by the lake and picked the closest flower; a white rose.
Music filled my ears, music from the moon. As the song came to an end I decided that I would never go back. How does one go back to society after they had stolen the moon, and fallen in love with its melodies? No, I would stay here and repay my debt.
Night after night I'd stay up late and stare at the moon, singing, and dreaming of a paradise far far away.
I set out to steal the moon, but in the end the moon stole me...
And I'm perfectly alright with that.