The Man in the Moon


Seeeth thou ever the man in the moon?

Searched as a child with never the boon.

In the crescent? I asked. Harvest, or half?

You see him? They’d say, with a half heart-ed laugh.

For years I squinted at the sphere in the air.

Envisioned him at leisure in his rocking chair.

Or was he standing? Or, walking? Or riding a bike?

Soon gave up looking, still as a tyke.

Years passed quickly, ne’er had I seen.

Throughout my boyhood, on through the teens.

Probably they were jeering, of me making fun.

Or, could they really see him? Guess I’m the only one.

I gave up ever looking, a sight I’d never find.

Rarely looked above me, to the moon I was blind.

Grew to be a man,  more important considerations.

Began listening to God —a lonely  heart, my only oblation—

I grew much stronger,  His love grew my faith.

Looking up to thank Him, and there it was—

His beautiful, love filled face.

 

Man in the moon 2 + 2

 Psalm 89:37

It shall be established for ever as the moon, and as a faithful witness in heaven.
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