The Moon and I

There was no reason for the light. No sun, no stars. Clouds and whispers were all the dusk held. But one spot of light danced, unashamed. The light stood triumphant, clinging to the hope of minutes in a day that had already passed. Light with no source, beaming through the night sky. It made no sense. And it was beautiful.

It passed as fast as a yawn in the morning. Like the final deep breath before you wake, the sky shuttered and stretched and the light was gone. Then the moon slipped in like a secret. A light with source, something sensible to guide the night. The stars were invited too but they lingered back to make a grand entrance in the darkest sky. So for that moment it was just me and the moon. I looked at him and he stared back at me. I asked him where the light came from and he just laughed.

Don't you know? It's the Light of the world. God is light.
But it must come from somewhere?
God creates light from darkness. Something from nothing. He can do it, you don't have to understand.
But it makes no sense.
There is no sense in beauty.