I look up at the moon
the gray on gray on gray on black
the round pale coin floating.
I think about the earth and all the people.
The moon knows nothing of these people.
It watches ceaselessly, it does not see.
All the people looking up at the moon
all caught in its pale, colorless glow
all touched by this foreign, alien object.
Yet the moon marks home.
In its senseless stasis, its uncaring solitude —
comfort, stability, solace.
The moon does not judge.
I may sin, I may triumph, I may wait.
The moon will still be there.
I too am on a rock floating endlessly in space
through a vast and indifferent universe.
Let the moon be my companion on this brief adventure.
