Do you think the moon is a light bulb,
screwed into the black ceiling of the universe?
Or do you think of the moon as a child,
reliant on its mother the sun, to reveal it to all?
Do you think of the moon as a role model,
showing everyone that although he is disfigured by birthmarks and hit by jeering meteors,
he is kind, lighting the way for those who need help?
Or do you think the moon is a stray sequin,
among the glitter spread on the gods cloak of night?
Do you think the moon is a blot of white ink,
dripped onto an endless scroll of black parchment?
Or do you think the moon is a wheel of pale-yellow cheese, being eaten by a hungry giant,
bit by bit?
Or is the moon, simply the moon?