Where No One Else Will See Poem by Leon Moon

There is never another Summer.
Night's invaders are the divinity
Of sanctimoniousness, the reprise of fate;
It's the ancient flower we create
Once we choose and adopt our new mother,
Emancipating the home in appearance,
Where none other than ourself can remain,
Brutality of honesty, knowing all there is to know; that love can never again be the same..

As the refugee of scatology
It's impossible not to find time;
No matter how much I hide
Behind the will, the backdrop to energy,
I am brought back to the empty weight
Which has settled so well in my stomach
It's the only desired state,
The struggle of a breath we too often contemplate.

Hell is the reaction to a question unanswered,
Torment is the tremendous fascination
We use to empathise with evil,
The fire kept burning by the revival
Of coronating the action which keeps desire fulfilled,
Less sunlight returns back to the Sun;
This is breath, redemption before Sun-Set,
Made a quod in freedom or regret.

The beauty of an end is that there's more to be said.
By coping, we're inevitably conniving,
Consuming disparity, forming identity,
Just to act surprised when we find eternity
Is the only guarantee once we're no longer dead.