Hey, hello! Are you guys curious about a Story that started billions of years ago, A cosmic bond that began during the eruption? The captivating story has many memories in the ancient dust.
I guess it’s love at first sight: I have been third-wheeling them forever.
Ah, where to begin?
In the vast tapestry of the cosmos, where stars depict the night sky with their twinkling tales, an extraordinary bond existed between two celestial souls – the Sun and the Moon.
Their story began with a cosmic longing, an ache that stretched across the endless spectrum.
As the dawn breaks, the sun witnesses the rebirth of the Luna, enlightening the horizon’s surface.

The gentle rays ignite the flora and fauna in an Orchestra of life.
The eclipses became the moments of intimacy they cherished.
In those moments, the universe held its breath, a silent witness to the love that transcended their celestial roles.
The crumbling of time in this space with their love and passion was the ultimate ecstasy.

From stardust to sand,
From meteoroids to pebbles,
From bird chirpings to baby cries,
From a moment to a catastrophic event,
The days& nights you share with the Luna are,
Un-shattered, unbroken,
taking us into an untold obsession,
The seas sprinkled the parade of waves,
The skies scattered the light into eternal,
The clouds sang with the crescendo of thunders,
Every movement of techno plates,
had hoped it would last forever,
No, we all are wrong: It was fading away slowly into the realms of dark matter, and the legion of sparks is vanishing with the ashes and mist.
The seas got infused with filth, and so did the skies.
The opera of rain slowly dampened into the lanes of hopelessness.

Every dawn and dusk,
The story has its new beginning,
And the ending is never written in this epoch of the Big Bang.

Here I am, the Earth, the third planet of the solar system,

Glimpsing the fantastical story for billions of years in the constellation of the Milky Way, wishing to continue for another billion years.
In the Eclipse of Heart, they shared endless conversations, expecting a better tomorrow.
But as if the pattern changes overnight, the celebrations of soil, seas, and skies in honour of the sun and the moon have drowned deep into me.
The magnificence has imbued into the roots of hells, where only demons rule the knitting of the exquisite practices.
Is this a blessing or a scourge?
Will I disappear so soon into something which is not me?
Whom to blame?
Me or you?