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Seconds In Motion

seconds in motion * by Arthur T. Wilson

Split seconds

A second too early

Seconds of indecision

A second to late to view a friends’ body after the casket is closed

Seconds in motion

And it’s never a metaphysical quandary or slightly philosophical

Knowing random seconds simply don’t exist or die

If all seconds are eternal seconds danced into forever and ever

Seconds until the gun fires to begin a fixed race

Seconds of unfathomable longing

Seconds to belong or remain alone in a lethal maze of fear

Seconds declared as the last opportunity for a second chance

Seconds to live

Seconds to live without being alive

Seconds to recapture a childhood memory flashing like lightning

Seconds in motion

Seconds as important as a volcano spewing footprints of psychotic ash

Allowing earth to do whatever it wants to do whenever it wants

Seconds to explode seconds to flow seconds to burn covering fossils

That fought for millions of years to reveal its’ connection to seconds

Seconds, just seconds

Seconds in motion watching seconds become seconds

Seconds to protest or protect your last blood warm kiss

When love withdrew and pulled back peace making it an inconsequential pawn of discarded seconds

Seconds to lose hope turning hope into feelings that feel like sandpaper

Against splinters

Seconds to harvest or pull up negativity to wallow in tragedies Sophocles could have written to scare an entire civilization from living

Seconds for a newborn baby to push from its’ mothers womb

Seconds for a newborn baby’s eyes to spin like radar into the light out of darkness

Seconds until a tangible surprise isn’t a surprise anymore

Seconds to discover you need a miracle delaying its’ arrival

Seconds to forgive again and again and again or seconds to be forgotten

Seconds in motion seconds

Does time know itself as seconds or as nothing?

Or does time emphatically declare that its’ seconds are everything?

Seconds thinking of itself as everything always simultaneous so

Seconds in motion

Seconds to become a champion

Seconds to become a lost child

Or seconds to become a shooting star born from a sweet song out of gods’ mouth

Every second.

By Arthur Theodore Wilson (c)2011

Arthur Theodore Wilson is a Published Poet; Playwright; Teacher; and Co-Editor/Publisher over thirty years of Attitude Magazine.
http://iforcolor.org/arthur-theodore-wilson/

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