[brought to you by an upcoming eclipse..]
For us, it has always been. Equally, it has remained a focal point for emotions like desire and longing, that poets and playwrights throughout human history have visited this place of false light. On its face (or within) would giants seek even the tiniest snippet of inspiration. Its spheroid body hangs lazily, its illumination is both weak and borrowed, void of any warmth. Even still, the moon rocks. Never you mind that pun, weary web-traveler. I’m just a hopeless fan of a stupid rock.