Reaching for the Moon

Do you ever wonder why kids dream about touching the moon?
I find myself revisiting the dream, and the more I do, the more I see why.

As sure as there is dawn, there is dusk.
It’s only a matter of time before the fading streaks of orange and yellow are taken over by black, and the remnants of the day are swallowed up whole by the darkness.

But I look up, and I see light. A light that guides me when I can’t find my feet. It’s not the promise of tomorrow that it brings, but the joy of the present.

I look up and I see beauty. The kind that makes your eyes sparkle and wonder who could create such a marvel.

I look up and I see magnificence. Something so larger than life, yet looks like it could fit right in your fist.

I look up, and I see reflections. It’s a reflection of me, the past, the present and everything to follow. I could dwell on it forever.

I look up, and I see peace. A place inside me that knows nothing about worries.

I look up, and I see hope. Hope, that envelopes me and lifts me to places I only dream of.

I look up, and I see something out of this world. Quite literally.

If the moon is a song, then it’s the best kind of music ever made.
It is absolute perfection.
A ray of sunshine? I would rather have a ray of moonlight.

So, the moon – just a surface with craters?
I don’t buy that.