The start of it all.

The moon is bright, The earth so near, The sun so squashed in all of its fear, The sky so dark, Consuming the light that one must be near, The head and the heart only appear, When the light disappears, The head so full of knowledge and wisdom, The heart so empty with nothing but glass, The kind that can pierce a brick building with sass, The head is attached to the moon you see, That's why it has most of the much needed things, The wisdom of healing the things that you see, The kind that can make almost anything bling, It's missing a piece though, It can't really see, All the hope of the people on earth that do speak, The heart will listen, The sun will dry, All the tears in their eyes, The sun is shining with passion and glee, Singing so softly every morning, Some days though it's tough, To balance the moon, And all of the darkness that it lets loose, They are both kind of old, To old for these games, There's not enough players to play the right way, So one day they meet and try to be neat, They lay down the laws and start to speak, They will take breaks in between so their bones will not wither, Twelve hour shifts is what they must stay, The sun will go first, To give them some hope, The moon will go last to make it a blast, With darkness and lightness now starting to speak, It looks like that life will start to get neat, The earth that is round will always remember, That one time the darkness was all that they had, And they were a piece in a game that once had, The stories of all the replacements that came, The number one rule though, Was never to speak, Never to speak of the thing that would be, The start of it all, The start of the only thing that could be, The safe place for humans to rest and be free.