The sun is setting, signaling an end. The horizon rises up to meet the sky and swallows the great king. The clouds hold the dying light tightly, but they can’t resist the approaching darkness that reaches out and overshadows the world.

But look! Even in the dark the king’s envoy, the moon, is overhead and trailing steadily across the sky; borne on a gleaming chariot pulled by the king’s swiftest horses. Listen . . . can you hear it? Through the still air drifts the sound of flutes and lyres and chimes as the moon conducts the night symphony. The stars light up the expanse of the sky like fireworks and march astride the moon, columns of loyal footmen and retainers, each one waving brightly colored flags and breathing fire.

But see in the distance! The trees will be the first to spot the clouds carrying the morning light like the hem of the king’s cloak, spreading out in majesty over the sky. A moment later and the royal diadem appears from below the horizon, fitted with precious gems that emit a light that dyes the ether with brilliant oranges and yellows. It’s at that moment a new song begins, the fanfare that welcomes the king back from a harrowing journey. All the land rejoices as the brilliant chariot comes into view, drawn by twelve powerful warhorses with manes and tails of arcing fire. The stars disappear, surrendering the stage to their king, and the moon fades into the background, content with its work.