When I see the moon,
I remember that I am small and God is vast. From ages past, His Word brought forth the unimaginable beauty of the universe, its glories teasing us with sprays of stars and globes of light, breathtaking in the raging fire of one and cold emptiness of the other.
When I see the moon,
playing coyly behind the clouds, shimmering about their edges, I smile as I would at a child peering behind his mothers skirt. Such a simple task, to paint the white with silver strokes. Yet a noble task to break the black with cratered smile and grant the world a bit of hope.
When I see the moon,
and all its faces, I think of how quickly life passes from one star lit scene to the next. Its cycles shift from silent dark to brilliant awe, and everything between, while earth beneath and sky above remain faithful, constant in their mystery.
When I see the moon,
I think of lovers, poets, and kings, all looking heavenward to view the same expanse. United in our differences, we melt into nothingness beneath its glimmering gaze. Oceans blue part lands of green, but people cannot be seen from its rocky ridges floating high.
When I see the moon,
I am reset by the knowledge that its Creator and I have a bond unbroken by tides, and seasons, throughout untold ages yet to come. The night whispers calm my anxious heart. The echoes of light illuminate a longing for a home just beyond my breath…
When I see the moon.