More than a metric ton of meteoroids hit the moon every day
Old before the birth of life,
This ancient shell,
Worn thin by fierce and frequent strike.
In powdered crash of crust,
In world of once upon a time,
The fall of sky,
Through whisper thin uncertain air,
Laid waste your unprotected land.
In dust of age,
Across your lined and weathered face,
Your burden of encounters born,
The temper of your beauty traced.