Description
"In it's purest form, even time envied love I suppose. Because it was eternal, it didn't have a beginning or an end or anything in between. It just was. It just was, in the same sense that the moon was always inescapably in love with the sun. They were always too far apart to meet, but as the moon set and the sun began to peak over the horizon, and they saw each other for the briefest of fleeting moments, that- that is what love is. And still, all the moon ever got to see was the morning glow from the edges of it's beloved sun, before it's eyes closed and it had to sleep all over again, until it could catch a glimpse of the setting rays that reflected against it's own solitary purity. That's what love was. Never knowing, not quite seeing, but always feeling. Love always felt, always conquered, always was. And this love always was. Always was written in the stars, always was planned by the universe, always was going to break my heart and fix it back up again. Because the stars forbade anything else."
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