I often lay down on lush green grass and look at the moon.
I imagine what man first felt when he saw it in the sky in all its majesty.
Like the sun it shined in emptiness of space.
Yet where the sun humbled man in its fiery glory, the moon humbled man in its serene beauty.
Did man see it as a beautiful night lamp in the sky?
Did he see it as a nubile goddess peering down on him?
Did he perhaps feel insignificant under its illuminating gaze?
Did he wail because he thought he’d never lay eye on anything more splendid?
Or was he overcome by fear that moon would leave its seat
And fall from heaven onto everything he held dear?
Were there those who were driven insane by its beauty?
Were there those who marveled at the vastness of the heavens it prowled?
I do not know if these were the things the first men reflected on when saw the shinning globe in the sky.
These are only the things I ponder on every time I look into your eyes.