An Instinctual Redemption Of A Mother Poem by Leon Moon

How do you return once the universe is compromised?
Nothing positioned to a history is
Your obese silence.

On a window pane my reflection glitters, deflecting back
To a mirrored ball which used to be the Sun
When I was a child.

Tangerine collesiums are the dams crushing themselves.
A thick liquid reacts itself to a thorn, coiling
To a desert without a wind.

The truth being innately foreign, she is saved by his birth
But cascasions down language remained unknown
For she too was blind.

Midas is merely touching the guilt of an embryo.
An aspiring monk premeditates evaporation,
Rejecting any shape of light.

How does one remain true once the universe is compromised?
Limbo is the cynicism of stillness
And I am alone.

Everything said, cradling memory, I am a fool
For pretending second births don't create replies,
The son dies once his dreams come true.

Dawn is an unformed gong not yet mimicking the sound of birds,
An effigy you pour your blood into waits
For you to awake.

Our soul is glass wood in the centre of crossing vessels
Creating the worthiness of height knowledge flows through,
Mother's love which is destiny.

A sword is what you say you are — my heart is forever pierced.
Now the precious moments have fled, you have gone
For we are alone.

You were never there in the first remnants of expression
As you was when I was child. Though I am your child.
It's obvious, I have not yet lived.


Why do you remain once the universe is compromised?