The moon God made to be a moon no less,
A river honors Lord of All Water
When being river deeply she prefers,
To be remains creation's holiness.
Yet primal man since past of genesis
Has made moon heart, or river soul,
Mere parts of himself, no part of a whole,
Man's own will defies grim casualist.
Real moon remains a part of universe,
Still a moon, a shining sacred moon,
While man wears mask of Eden's curse,
Out of rhythm with creation, clanging tune,
Man feels not who he is, a sequel of masks,
To become real cannot be another task.
Go forth from here