Moon Tale

Moon Tale

In the clouds above land, lived a bearded king,

Warm-hearted yet deadly.

A small country he ruled, named lunaura.

Loved by all his men and kin.

In love he believed, war, he despised.

A mighty warrior, though he was,

A true lover too, he was.

But for only one, did his heart truly belong.

The Moon, he loved.

His nights went by talking to her,

And by her moods, 

He was fascinated.

Sometimes, Bright and complete she was.

At other times, shrouded with a grey cloth.

Sometimes, showing herself partly,

and some other nights, never came.

The king was not disappointed by this,

Patiently he would wait for her arrival.

"The unwaitable wait", he used to say and

The people used to sing: 

"Mad is our king, to the moon he speaks 

Mad is our king, a garland he wreaths.

"Made" says our king, "for the moon it is."

Don't know though, how he'd reach."

On one night,

When the Moon was brightest, 

The king, failing to resist,

Told her about his love.

The Moon, feeling very shy,

Vanished into the sky without answering.

The depressed king, went to sleep that night,

Thinking he failed.

Jealous was the Land,

of the love the king had for the Moon

And hid the Moon 

And eshrouded the king with a dark cloak.

To war, the king went,

Depressed; unable to wield his sword,

Died in the battle,

"Mooncause", the battle was called.

The Moon was blamed.

The Moon, struck by an arrow

Of sorrow,

Dimmed her shine for the rest of her life.

A grand funeral, the king was given.

All his knights and kinsmen,

Kings and people Of other countries 

came to see the last of the king who loved the Moon.

Silently in a boat he passed,

Bathing in a faint light, 

Sailing across the sky,

He went to where his heart lie.