Clapping Of Corpses Poem by Leon Moon

Nothing - Creation & Oblivion
An infinite funnel for both loves;
Infinite light, both cold, warm and burning.

An orb the never blinks,
A sphere that only spins
To the third eye stretching.

The sight! ! The Birth! ! A solid clump of clay...

The fingers thoughts! The conch's growth! Infinite Motion...

And the one who speaks by the sound of music,
The one who bobs his heart and soul to Musing,
The memories and father of action seeded in the scalp

The beauty of all which regenerates! ! !
(The fountain-head is always cracked, always spilling, forever perfect)

- - And the body, soul, corpse, mind which conceives it -

The constancy of irony, the strings of creation
And the gasping of the fruit forever touched...

The life of motion and all harmony!
The splendid death of all mankind,

The constancy, reassurance and safety in Nothing...
The clapping of corpses that consume everything...