Restless Poem by Leon Moon

The decaying stillness of a reflection
Props me up right to my own subjection,
Outlasting the tail of dawn by ignoring God,
Glistening through each blood-orange window shard.

Magic subsides and the sad chimp returns,
Swallowing the key for the cage he burns,
Like the wrinkled marigold, words are despised
And only nothing can catch the man who died.

Never to be known or widely understood
The ancient compass navigates you above
The eternity animating blood
Where a prayer disguised as a cry enslaves love.

The rigid declension flicks the stones and notes
Burrowing breasts in chasms making music,
Here the exotically sickly air floats
Capturing essence before it existed.

The child thinks of his mother's cries as he runs,
Cradling the air where her hand now never comes; —
He holds his own hand as he prays alone under suns,
Shattering the last tale of Dawn which now never comes; —

Never to be known or widely understood
The ancient compass navigates you above
The eternity animating blood
Where a prayer disguised as a cry enslaves love.