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From the beginning man looked up
at night and saw the satellite,
orbiting on a timetable
of its own.

It came and went, remained unspent,
Ying to earth’s Yang, celestially,
each evening rising—an old
companion.

Generations saw its pale white
reflecting down from sun’s bright light,
and through centuries past it spoke
to lovers.

Men wondered how it came to be,
and wondered what the distance was,
contemplated the mystery
in the sky.

And then within a hundred years,
men’s knowledge grew and dreams came true,
as science dawned and airplanes flew,
like eagles.

The President declared one day,
and made a claim about the way,
America would send a man
to the moon.

They built a ship to make the trip,
three astronauts in flying suits
were rocketed from Florida,
into space.

The world rejoiced, with kinship voice,
when Armstrong spoke and told the world,
a giant step was made that day,
for mankind.

And now again we celebrate,
commemorate, it’s fifty years,
since that event in sixty-nine,
the first time.

Shortly there will be a service,
taking people using spaceships,
on a lunar expedition,
for a fee.

In the meantime and forever,
every person who looks upward,
sees the beauty of the moonlight,
in night’s sky.

The scene’s the same, since Abraham
and Charlemagne and Chairman Mao
and you and me, we soak it in
impressing.

It speaks to us. It comforts us,
consistently, reliably,
the rich, the poor, it matters not
who sees it.

We offer praise, sing its glory,
thankful for the tides it brings us.
May it last and be forever,
as it is.

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