'Before The Heavenly Hours' Poem by Leon Moon

Before the heavenly hours have stopped bleeding
And there is but one soul to be delivered
An altar will be fashioned from the hollowed
Skull of the saved, in a sleep that kills the dreaming.

There are no opposites left to control.
All operations have resumed their natural order,
There will be no statue for the dictator
That rises to tear the hand from our soul.

Love's desolation is at its highest power.
Amidst ancient pastures enclosing the breeze
Snakes scale the grass of an abandoned bower
And solitude transcends loneliness and need.

A silent prayer from two lips is severed
By sincere rebels for one last pardoning;
They have guaranteed themselves a new death
And will never open their own eyes again.