His Reflection Reformed Poem by Leon Moon

the man without integrity loses his identity,
he belongs to another's entirety and until
reclaimed, this is the pyre of his eternity.

The future is the forming of history.

he collects illusion to recharge his
emptiness
beauty is what he deems ‘ever-less', a hidden
waterfall
in barren wilderness
loquacious and insipid: the clock ticks
til the mind is no longer vivid
and he creates
a new tune on his guitar in
the smoke of his cigar
and thanks the voice of god
for air
silence restores;
pin up star, patchwork scar, makeshift war,
destined order in a reflection
reformed

marching under
cloudless wonder —

the peace of birds is duty
mesmerised by their flight
but not at what they carry…

and they gaze on gladly
til the sun's deformity
is the shape of dawn
towing night.

The future is a foraging for history.

There is no where else
To find ourselves.

The orbit splitting a mirror's sovereignty—
A for sale sign in our beloved property—
And the only reason we care to stay—

the shapeless dawn
towing night…
I
a crown of thorns
offering light…
I
the morning caws
supervising sight…
I

There is no where else
To lose ourselves.

The future is a dividing in presence.

The invisible river devising our lover.

The light
The light which no Other can discover
The indecipherable charm
Striking love into number
The light

Slaying Lucifer
A Snake ripped from a Shell

The miracle
Not even stillness can retell

An apparition
Solidified out of vision

A one man army
With no option to surrender.

The tsunami
Summer dies to fight

The body of a lover
Informing the weight of feather

The promise
To complete the mission

The shape of dawn
Towing night…