The Emperor Of The Moon Poem by Mark Heathcote

Since antiquity, there have been many emperors.
The emperor of the moon is the most mystical.
Riding bareback above clouds like a lost explorer
Galloping towards white stars, he grew critical

Looking for his bride; oh, where art thou my - Juliet?
I have remained faithful during my ceaseless searching
But your distance has always remained the same, I regret.
There are too many stars twinkling that are pretending-

To be in keeping with my sensual desires, but those,
Those stars were never in his thoughts, never his tempting.
The emperor of the moon was now predisposed
To idly hiding or occasionally peeping

Rather than dashing across the skies, he hid in the dark
Rather than crying, oh, where art thou my - Juliet?
He sent his people to look; he sent a meadowlark
Men did shout, and the meadowlark sang the alphabet.

His men returned to their quarters each evening solemn
The meadowlark flew and flew, singing in the heavens
The emperor felt abandoned and in the doldrums
As each morning, it sang and was lit incandescent.

Why on earth does it sing so triumphant and happy?
And while his back was turned, he felt glowing warmth.
And his men came running; here is your bride and aptly
She arrives behind your throne brightly and adorned.

The emperor gasped at her radiance of gold
In all his endless days of looking, he couldn't find her
Until she found him in a story that is often retold
A few centuries later - about how he found her?