Photo by Daniel J. Schwarz on Unsplash
Gratitude for COVID
daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly reflection
All sight unseen, given fresh breath airing out of old paradigms, transfixed past burdens, murderous reflections, stars telling tales. If not for the old, present-day unbeknownst to simplest of peasant folk, yielded, mended torn trousers dragged through the fields.
Silenced tongue briefly for a moment, redundant recourse, trailing forth behind the door, Peking duck Outback, afterward an afterthought, reaching deep within thy soul. If not now when, scripture and quotes Boldly placing footprints, not once stepped before, invitation remaining, a spirit calling us by name.
Healing lacerations of wounded soldiers calling home for breathtaking views from henceforth to galaxies giving birth anew shift is at hand. Just a glimpse, foresight has given, shattered dreams into paradigm-shifting realities, switch-plate, switch-words, whatever the medium, forever it is chosen, as one collectively speaking or singularly, plural in the third person.
We shift with each broken wing, blood-wrenching curdling scream, and acceptance of what was, what if, and maybe so. If not now, when repeating theme forever until tripped by own words, thoughts transmuted self, the embodiment of All there Is.
A single breath, a plethora of beings’ innate housing of the DNA, shared for all, oneself, I to the We. A wounded soldier returning thought, again and again, blink, just like before, vanished windless breath, silenced being, a sniper on the rooftops of glad transmitting self-realization.
How does one shift paradigm hence before to thee?
What’s with ye ole English?
Fucking absurd all the same. Blink like 182, gone like a flash, like the wind I don’t give a damn, shifting is as shifting does, bubba Gump and jumbo shrimps, altering realities, now to silence the inner critic.
Accepting the pain and misery, quarantine serving martini, it is as it was in the beginning, the end, and everything through the in-between. Perceptual thoughts once clouded by discourse, cleansed palette, new paint strokes, sharpened tongue, answered not in native patois.
From the hilltops, star-filled gazing dust, ancient and sacred tune, remembered soul peeking through. From I to We, a self-unifying field of pure consciousness, at a glance full of bovine excrement, further detailing universal thought, flow to thine own self be true.
~ Ani Po
When sitting with this week’s prompt, allowing the coffee pot to percolate until just right, who am I kidding, Keurig does not have the capabilities. Yet, we do. We have the ability to sit with broken wings, blood-letting veins running through our days, crossed by another, fixed at the watering hole, pouring out of lacrimal ducts.
We ask how a paradigm shift occurs, but through our willingness to accept a new way of living, being, seeing the Canvas of Life as we seek it to be. Our presence of self, collective whole, tapping into a a greater field of consciousness, reserved not for one but all for the taking.
Firstly, there is a hurdle of sorts, self-sabotage transfigured, disfiguring pleasantries switch thought from invisible to physical realms supreme. Past the self-doubt, Thomas gone forevermore, present-be, future held within palm of own hands.
