The moon has always been more than a celestial body. It was a guide for sailors, a marker of time, a muse for poets. It carried myths, shaped rituals, and whispered secrets to those who looked up.

Today, it is measured, documented, explained. We track its orbit with precision, yet its meaning seems to fade. It is framed inside phone screens, captured but rarely noticed.

Have we lost something in our relentless pursuit of knowledge? Does understanding replace mystery, or can the two coexist?

Perhaps the moon still belongs to strangers, those who pause long enough to wonder.

Does modern life strip symbols of their meaning, or do they evolve with us?