Regaining Sight Unseen


Prose Daily Strategies

Regaining Sight Unseen

Remembering who we are

Photo by aditya sankhe on Unsplash

Oh, the shores of Lake Michigan, father and son were looking out into the fading distant memory of generational pulls. Manistee, in through the narrow canals, landing to the east and west on the riverbanks unfolding time after time — resting while muted child tugs at father’s hand’s muzzle.

Truth be told, unleashing glimpse in every Step into the Canvas, lost forgotten ways, days of seeing beyond all veils. Live thy life as it was in the beginning, torn apart by man-made certainties malfunctioning for the last time — transference of following lost forgotten sheep, revealing true as Peter Parker, Clark Kent, and any other secret identities, no longer hiding behind the masks.

Shadow of Doubt, Thomas no longer speaking of the foreboding tongue-tied to an evergreen, life everlasting dipped in the daily tea. Elixir of vicissitudes last birthing thought, bridging gaps from left to the right hemispherical rhymes numerical, one… two…three strikes you’re out, at the old ballgame.

Are you?

End game?

Fallen into seas misery, burnt ash transforming pharisaical to dusting off the records scratching Post Malone running in circles, blackened phase into the white-flying overhead. Dragons breath cleansing souls, exchanging hearts like long-lost buddies swapping ancient gifts — wrapped up into self-inflicting realities expanding.

Deeper the cavernous percipient entering time before this — was only the beginning. Identifying the skeletons lurking about, prideful lusting over material self-inflated ego crumbling like sweetened kuchen atop peaches and cream.

If not now, when?

Quoted and misguided, dogmatic stronghold practicing every ritual under the sun — shining rays of no more unto her. Now is the time! Seek and he did find, whispering sacred truths declaring I AM Here — to for, play on words — exaggerating no more.

Trusting the inner voice, wisps inspiritu leading The Way — beyond words, details, labels, and such, it just is. Walking forward into the unknown, silencing void welcoming home — at last, oneness, beingness, creating and co-creating as it was before, now is and forever shall it be.

~ Ani Po


This is a perfect example of my daily strategies, this poem started out telling a daily story, unfolding into a lifetime of undoings. Returning back to the innocence, trusting the inner-guidance and inner-knowing, allowing no strategy to be the all-inclusive strategy but a piece to a greater whole.

Thereby making my daily strategy no strategy in particular, just following spirit and answering the call to where I am to go next. Little morsels left behind, sign-posts up ahead, or whatever catches the attention of my heart’s song vibratory favor.

Thank you Jean Carfantan for allowing me to participate in this prompt, a little stretch but it sure did tickle my thoughts.


Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Time Giving Salve Healing all Wounds


Prose poetry

Time Giving Salve Healing all Wounds

Opening pangs of trauma and loss

Photo by Kristine Cinate on Unsplash

Fresh as the daisies colored labeled beets, not one is withstanding truth but such the knees giving out when reality no longer exists. Willows passing bent over wrenching pain with purging Stuck at crossroads of solar plexus borders, as before triggered thought happenstance in the month of May, scattered furry friends searching for lost nuts and buried treasures like the squirrel burying and resurfacing misery untold stories as once before.

Given strength, time’s passing of another memory, ancient and wise old owl standing nearby giving council to futuristic events. Dragon’s cleansing breath is deeply rooted in the cavernous bouts with past, present, and future glances.

In a blink, thoughts fleeting fast, twas a dream hence real intensity giving meaning to the personal and collective whole. What is this reality set before me? What happens next? Matters not what is real or illusory thought. Matters only to recognize thoughts as written in stone or evanescent thoughts with the possibility of enhancing self-inflicted wounds healing beyond worldly and galactic bodies of info.

As raw as the honey gathered by worker bees and queens’ holding space, we are not bound by this reality or the next but a grandeur and expansive space within potentiality and beingness of unlabeled thought-patterns of unwritten truths.

Breathing in the glorious ether of ever-expanding possibility, breathing out yesterday and yesteryear of neuroplastic ingrained trade of thought. Opening wounds, acknowledging present bee, allowing organic healing to transpire, applying the salve of time to heal all wounds.

~Ani Po


Was at a loss with this prompt, but then a wonderful piece unlocked the word-gates to thought. Thank you Literary Impulse for this lovely prompt and thank you to today’s muse JoMae Spoelhof. You can read her story, sparking this piece, below.

Thank you Literary Impulse for this lovely prompt and for stretching my words across this page.


Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash