'All You See Is Of Your Own' Poem by Leon Moon

conscious of the posture
of his interior
vanquishing deadlines
common hysteria
he weighs endlessness
til it is right
anchor of nothingness
sunlight

the cold furnace of birth
which there is no respite
leads us through earth
and traces midnight —
a hair in the crosshairs
of foresight
the rivals of our design
the sirens of our delight

"take this poison now!
charm it into light
devise your demise
anyway you like"—
freedom — a nurse
a butcher's purse
is the only curse
we sink to verse

the rapture we rehearse
the rapture which came first,

faulty will
malting still
and still until
our lungs refill
breath in bone
dream in stone
the ideal known
the idea unknown


til dream vanishes
into stone