Carlos: Moon, Abyss, Longevity

In the realm of myth and poetry, in common parlance—the moon has been made to be a woman, La Luna, Diana, the maiden of the Sun, the mother of the month and the mover of the tides.... But what if our feeble eyes, our nearsighted telescopes, our supposed seers and even Neil Armstrong got it wrong? There's a longevity to certain lies—with enough time untrampled, they grow from weeds into seeming flowers, trees that are not truly trees (like palms)—in a word, they become truths. But the poem is a space to question our deepest held notions, to make a mockery of what is "right" and turn it on its head So with no source or proof at all (this isn't science, this isn't math!), I formally reappropriate the Moon—the Moon, is in fact, a man! But still, there must be balance and an evenness to exchange—I concede thus: the entire ocean abyss of littered space, the better part of all possible places: is female—let it always be so!