The man sat down at his desk, feeling harried with the business of the new day. He logged on to the open computer, but before losing himself in the contents that appeared on its screen, he glanced up through the open blinds and immediately noticed the full moon hanging torpid and pregnant in the dawn sky. Pink-tinged, vanilla cotton clouds veiled it against a sky so blue it didn’t look real. Such a scene as this always made him hold his breath and linger, trying with all his might to apprehend and infuse the splendor into his memory the way a connoisseur of wine might taste a rare vintage and embrace it on his tongue. Who else in all the world is looking at this same sight right now, He asked himself, and thanked God in heaven for such a lovely portent of the day, if no eyes but his own beheld and appreciated it.
He recalled a passage read long ago suggesting that the deepest yearning of the spiritual man is not just to behold beauty in nature, but to be one with it. Gazing again upon such a masterpiece of perfection, he felt the ache and longing for such a union.
In the few moments he spent meditating on these things, the moon gave way to the greater light and was visible no more. He considered that this was all the better as such loveliness is always passing by, and not a thing to be caged and captured. He gave thanks again and rose from his desk richer in soul and spirit, having gilded them in a beauty rare, and secure in the knowledge that He who so ordered the relations of sun. moon, and clouds to create such magnificence could yet make something beautiful of his life.