Becoming Gifted

On my way to work I stop my car, and look. 

It's dawn, and the full moon is setting, the light more intricate than I could possibly describe, more real than you could possibly imagine.

And I actually ask myself: 

"Why now?" 
"Why such wide beauty?" 
"Why such an especially glorious present?" 
"Why such a gracious gift?"

Or is it really always so? Is such grace really always given? 

And is it just that I suddenly have become gifted enough to perceive this moment of light, gifted enough to receive this moment's present?

And 
"Who, exactly, is the Giver?" 

I ask myself, stunning myself with theocentric implications. 

And 
"What really is being given?"

I ask myself again, slapping myself with scientific significances. 

And 
"Who am I that I suddenly get to receive all this?"
 
 

The moon pales in the breaking day.
 
 

"Why ask?"
I asked.