The man on the moon cries himself to sleep knowing that he can never be reached. He is stuck on a matter of the unknowing and the dark unconscious.

He raises his head over the moon looking upon us and seeing our selfish ways, he wants to hide all through the night and day.

We don't know the color of his ancient hair or the way he smiles and cares, but he knows every single detail about the way we move and talk down to the last strand in a DNA block.

He is filled with deep melancholy, not the kind of melancholy when all you want to do is be alone for a day but the kind that changes his colors to blue, white, and gray.

He is too broken to be god and too absolute to be a human like you and me. Simply he is all we think and believe and know or want to know. He is our temporary state of mind and feeling, our thought and our guide.

He is inside every one of us like water is inside the root of every plant, like words are inside every newborn child, like protein is inside every hair strand. Only we can notice them and acknowledge they exist.

The man on the moon cries because of the things he feels inside. Blue ,white, and gray he sees all our ways, the way we continue to ignore him but he is real, and I am him and you are him and that is all.

The man on the moon is you and me so let every day and night be.