Does the moon know?
That people seek it for support,
For hope and companionship?

Does it know that to us,
It's much more than just a ball of
Rock floating in darkness?
It has existed for billions of years,
Orbiting us ever loyally
Always the faithful servant dragged around by gravity
And yet it does not know
That the people who trampled on its skin
Blemishing its once-spotless soil,
The people who pierced its flesh with a flag
Of arrogance,
Vanity
And conceit,
Look to it for guidance in their selfish,
Mediocre lives.

But now imagine if it did know.

If it had feelings like the ones we pride ourselves in having - or not having.
Would it look to us for assurance too?
Feeling proud that it can reach such a deep level of 'understanding'?

Would it love our mysterious glow, created not by
The Sun, but by our artificial light and rivers of blood?
Would it feel pressure, always having to help us?

Or would it soak up our love
Delighting in our mostly undivided attention
Secretly knowing that even though it is..
Small,
Uninhabitable,
Lonely,
It will live longer than us
And the technology that was never meant to be in the Universe's gift that is Earth in the first place?