The slimmest clarion of new crescent moon
Strives against being horizonally swallowed
By a modern, urbanized mix
Of haze, smog, high-rise skyline and near-solstice summer sunset.
A totem of a more simplistic time
(Whether simple or not)
When times were measured by moons
Along with sacrifices and other aspects of worship
As the stench of old, dried, burnt blood
Coated stones, steles, tabernacles and temples;
Nasty, brutish, short and simplistic, even if not simple.
Nor bygone.
Yet today several million lobster loathers,
And a billion followers of an illiterate itinerant peddler,
Mark their calendars by that same crescent,
While well more than a billion adherents
Of a dead rebel Jew they cluelessly deify
Mark his death by that same lunar orb.
What would Earth by like without that Moon?
No science of Galileo and Apollo landings,
But no madness of Middle Eastern myths.
— May 31, 2009
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