Out in space, there was a boy who lived on the green moon and an old man who lived on the blue moon. The boy ran around his moon, plucked cheese out of the craters, and had a grand time of it. The man looked at the boy and sighed, then looked back out into the depths and the blackness. Before the boy went to sleep, he would look at the man on the blue moon and talk to him. Though the man could not hear him, he would sit intently and smile. Then, he would roll over to the dark side of the moon and fall asleep.
In truth, the man had wished to be closer to God. He had wished for freedom and detachment from everything. He’d learned that being closer to God was a lonely prospect. He would spend the day kicking rocks around, hands in his pockets, eyes wandering toward that playful child. He was free, too, and also alone. Maybe the child didn’t even know sadness. Maybe he could see something in the black sky the man couldn’t. But strain his eyes, all he could see was the blue ground, the green moon, and the small child who asked him questions every night that he could not hear or answer.