To suffer in life or willingly seek one’s own salvation, the more noble of the two I’ll never know. This solitary brood of mine hath meditation mine dear and loving sister I have not imparted to, perhaps more out of grief than anger. For her actions I resent not, to take arms against my darker half is commendable, even when I so foolishly allowed it to overpower mine own self her decision seems a
blessing more than anything.
And now that prison that did hold me for what may have been innumerable centuries I enable. It responds dutifully to mine own command and to none other. Its place in the sky follows mine eye, its presence not a lie for otherwise I might very well die. It truly belongs among the glitter of the cosmos, a bright stone mixed within an everlasting beach of pebbles, its glow cast onto the land in mystifying beauty. Few others see such a spectacle for in the time of darkness little ponies are tucked away, in their dreams I see, their fears and desires come upon me in revelations clear as a new day’s light. I am told that many admire the night in the land of sleep, for them a refuge to garner thoughts in dreams. Indeed, their living focus is set solely on the sun, it is a necessity. Its glow of rejuvenation warms the land, feeds it, comforts it and the inhabitants, gives life and a feeling that the future holds better things to come. I have had such experiences but it denied me true assurance, the fruits of confidence held dangling in front of me as I gave chase. From that time forth, in plain terms, I would not allow myself to slander any moment’s leisure seeking safe haven. I gave no words to my sister nor any affection and now I have more offenses at my beck and call than I have thoughts to put them in. I could accuse myself of such sins it would have been better my mother not borne me. My pride, jealousy and ambition are such fuels to the fire till a burning forest resulted, charred husks of a former life left in its wake. So excellent a sister Celestia was in the aftermath that she might not permit the eye of heaven shine too roughly upon me, the sun herself bringing back to sense the lonely moon. Her influence, her countenance, her rewards and her authorities I did soak up like a sponge, be wary however good sister, for your counsel I believe I cannot keep. Every fair from fair sometimes declines, by chance or nature’s changing course, as I have thought but to imagine myself as fair in the beginning is a fool’s ideal. The glorious sun hath properties worth praise as does its enabler, even those actions which did banish me from this world. Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
The time hath almost arrived when the moon be lowered from the sky, the sun peaks shortly and with it crowds of appeased before my sister. I cannot witness it, my feelings a maelstrom of madness necessary to put down and resolve, in good time. But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
“Hail to your majesty! It lacks a minute short of the sun’s rising, your duty commends you lower the moon shortly.”
Ah, there calls Celestia’s rooster, ensuring my job is done as to prevent another eternal night. I’ll follow the course of sensibility and not wax desperately with imagination. Nay, come, let’s go together.