Seizure's Times

                                            "Seizure's Times"

The silence is deafening.

It surrounds me.

Sometimes I can hear the silent space.

Orange moon-birds fly around a funky, purple sun.

To the timing of a gigantic, chiming, unheard beat of a grandfather's clock.

Just like the atomic clocks in the submarines.

Three hours away from that usual day-

The children whistle the world's chanting mantra.

A raven catches the sun.

When one dies, do they cease to exist?

Or do they live on?

They have been plucked from thin air.

To another world not in ours.

They are dybbuks.

Existence, for them, is a short period of time.

Now, like a puff of smoke they have dissipated.

Only someone's recollection in a dream.

Like their own world is.

Is this really a vision that can't be touched or seen through?

A fake revelation or a life's death?

A frozen snapshot's flash dream?

Live in a world soon to be departed?

Part of my loose stair step I kick back and forth.

Into and out of place and space.

It's morning and I'm still connecting with myself.

Darkness on- in the artistic outside.

My brain is drained and I can't think yet.

My morning coffee, please.

I'll wake up.

Please don't rush me.

Goodnight again for the last time.

A.M.---I.M.




By Jonathan Billet A.M. 05.01.14.