Photo by lucas Favre on Unsplash
Returning to Whence We Came
true-self, ever-changing thought transmuted reality
My thoughts are different, stating the poet, misfit, weirdo, introverted reality, or recreating self and cosmic worldly positions as seen fit, yet similar as remains. Similar opposames once thought different just adapting to possibility, ever-changing personal relationship with self and communicative transmitted diseases forth bringing death and despair.
From a very young age, she witnessed different worlds overlaid atop this one, wanting to retreat the collective suffering of the whole to preaching a new way of understanding. Given up on egoistic ways, belief “it was up to me,” merely observing the observer firstly, mostly outwardly gazing stars breaching new galaxies.
Turning to the quill, hidden messages, without decoder ring arriving via postal services, left for the others to find meaning in the illusion of the mind-altering self-inflicted possibility of accepting as is seen on t.v. Switch-words, binary encoding, rewriting Deoxyribonucleic acid, written word, and angelic beings held sacred space.
They judged, tested, tried and true, challenging to another duel, and dancing with devil him or her facing mirrors’ reflecting truths. Acceptance, forgiving ways, spirit-walker called to action, stepping into shadows of doubt, past-driven fear-ridden reality calling for a sit-down. Complying with the universal call, hearing both sides to every story, Two Owls replying who cooks for you.
Listening to whispers of weirdo’s presence, uncertain to the meaning or root cause to the words, embodying doubt she was collectively given, hesitation persists. Hearing an inner voice calling out her name, the true beginning of self-adapting, Self-creating thought waiting to birth, accepting the dream to reality potentiality, it is given.
~ Ani Po
In reply to Saturday Morning Prompt, stemming from years of listening to people tell me, “You can’t do that,” “That is impossible,” “You live in a fantasy world,” “You are playing a dangerous game,” “there is no spirit world,” “who do you think you are?” On and on, the self-doubt collectively spewing into my thoughts and eventually grabbing hold. Briefly forgetting who I was, giving away my own identity, lost in a temporary song of defeat, only to recover from life-long lessons collectively taught how not to be, returning to whence I came, true-self, ever-changing thought transmuted reality.
