Happiness. Sorrow. Fear. Anger. Hope.

Humans are the most complicated beings on Earth. Though they are crying within, a smile of delight can still bloom on their face. Words of shun and curses may well hide fondness and gratitude unspeakable for a reason. To understand someone is to look deep inside them, never to accept the mere expression seen on the surface.

Laughter. Tears. Shivers. Violence. Love.

A person’s heart is like a labyrinth. There are secrets hiding in every corner. It sometimes mirrors the complex world in the present. It sometimes holds the simplicity of raw emotions no longer masked by hesitance. To reach the depth of this labyrinth is a long walk down through hurdles and doors locked by keys too myriad to count. Every person is a unique puzzle to solve, and not even years of acquaintance can unravel the layers concealing the soul residing within the heart.

But to be human is to yearn for those feelings untold to reach someone, somewhere. Though invisible to the eyes, there is strength emanating from these unspoken emotions. They flutter away in silence, like delicate butterflies leaving traces of flower dust with every wave of their little wings.

Once upon a time, a lake rested at a clearing beyond a lush green forest. The calm water was said to be as clear as a mirror, reflecting the vibrant sun during the day and the quiet moon at night, the sea of stars dancing on the ripples. Beyond the forest stood a village; the lake was a place they were most fond of gathering, lively festivals and celebrations often took place at the shores.

Yet the vibe of festivities was not the only color brought by the indwellers to the mirror-like waters. Once every year, at the spring equinox, people would convene by the lakeside, not to play exuberant music or set off radiant fireworks into the sky, but to carry with them the voices of their innermost feelings that words cannot convey.

Longing for the departed. Prayers for the faraway. Unspoken wishes, desperation, adoration, desire for relief that can only be answered by the stillness of nature.

Each holding a candle in hand, they would close their eyes and recite these feelings in their hearts, entering a collective silence. Then, they would blow the candles, the extinguished flames returning darkness to the night.

Year after year, the convention remained unbroken. After every season of ice and frost, the feelings contained in their hearts were sent to the unreachable distance, from generation to generation keeping the tradition alive.

And one day, these unvoiced emotions without physical form gained a shape at last in a way none had ever imagined.

It was yet another spring equinox. The people from the village beyond the forest gathered once more by the lake, bringing with them the old and young, those who would precede and those who would succeed their era. The candles were lit, they closed their eyes in a moment of peace, until the time came for them to blow the light away — if it wasn’t for a strange phenomenon taking place right at the end of the ritual.

A flower.

In the middle of the lake, under the pale illumination of the moon, the bud of a flower sat atop the water. It rose slowly to the surface, growing taller as the petals began to unfurl one by one. The flower glowed in indescribable colors. At its full bloom, the lone flower of the lake had taken away the breath of so many people gathered at the shore, who would live to tell the tale to their children, and their children to those who come after them.

And as the flower appeared showered by moonlight, a name was thus chosen for this mysterious blossom: “Lunarelia,” the heart blooming under the moon.

Seasons change and decades pass by; the lake and the village where the Lunarelia flower was first discovered eventually become lost to time. But the story born from that one moment of magnificence amid serenity continues to live on throughout history, as myths passed down from the old to the young, as bedtime tales told by parents to children.

Many questions surface as to what happened to that enigmatic flower. Words have it that the petals of Lunarelia have long scattered into the wind, like fireflies gliding away into the unknown.

Each fragment of the Lunarelia is rich with a collection of unspoken feelings that once brought it to bloom. Now, those fragments travel the world wide and far in search of a vessel to rest, those able to receive the myriads of human emotions contained within the flower, until the day comes when the people gather once more, their hearts resonating in the same beat — in smiles, in tears, in solidarity, and perhaps, in songs and melodies carrying the heartfelt feelings of their songstress.