Turning Back the Clock to a Time of Suffering


Know Thyself Heal Thyself

Turning Back the Clock to a Time of Suffering

Planting seeds of change in the hearts of many

Photo by Sabine Ojeil on Unsplash

Reading another, listening to messages from the collective triggered deeper thought of self-reflection and the steps leading to this point in time. Heavy as the sounds, tremors and ground-breaking snaps as our steps veer off onto trails with fewer visitors than typical touristy traps.

Turning back the clocks, the hourglass of time, to a moment where a five-year-old drops wisdom of the ages, center stage and into our laps — dead in our tracks, self-evaluation of who and what we are to do in this lifetime. A glimpse of self-gratitude, inner joy, as if one has just found a pot of gold.

Sharing the wealth with a father figure of old school thought, not met on similar battlefields of thought-provoking peace — planting our seeds. What does one say to the one who says, “I feel sorry for you, taking guidance from a child?”

Deep pause — more self-reflecting tones singing through, “I feel it takes courage to address the innocence of this child, redirecting our steps into brighter days — in hopes of painting a better picture for future generations.” Not met with assurance, quite the opposing force at hand, “what are you trying to say? I am not going to change who I am. Not now, not ever.”

Sighing with great sadness, heavy this heart song squelching tone of another, knowing I have struck the magical cord — within self and healing of past, present and future. “What is the difference between a thirty-five-year-old who listens to his five-year-old, taking guidance on how to better his world and the thirty-five-year-old battling in a conversation with a seventy-year-old of what feels right?”

“The difference, one is willing to admit fault, vulnerable and scared of what others may think — whilst staying the course as to what feels right versus what is told to be so. What better a man who listens to his child, altering steps for brighter days?”

Deepest gratitude for the lessons of undoing, past or present participle showing a devote conviction of bettering self and all our encounters. Even greater is the gratitude for the strength of the innocent stepping forward to challenge the old ways, giving opportunity for inner knowing of what comes next.

~Ani Po


Inspired by John O’Neill for his thought-provoking piece:


Laying heavy on my mind this morning about my journey. Heavy in the sense of finding peace within my actions and steps for brighter days ahead. Art Bram discusses our superpower tools and how we engage with those around us, whether friends, acquaintances, or in my case, family. Tap into those superpowers!


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

Boiled Blood


Boiled Blood

Tranquil flow, live everlasting

Photo by Mayur Deshpande on Unsplash

It began with imaginary worlds created by something unseen, squelched by father’s inability — lacking observation. Hearing echoes, even today, those unwilling to accept realities hidden behind clouded veils. Lost forever, too far gone the extreme — till the spirit of wind calls one’s name one day.

Forward moving, thickened blood — frozen on the tundra of old-timers playing an outdated game. Mischievous thoughts, twisting, plotting out sinister plans — including joyrides of abandoned backhoes on newly unearthing grounds — short-lived was the chapter seeking deeper kinds of love.

Hot like fire, tempered outbursts not likely causing more confusing thoughts — met by a swooning of love’s enticing gaze. A battle between good and evil begins — self-inflicted disruption with cannons going off in mind.

Afraid of the devilish look ingrained in days of yesteryear — turning back on all before — transporting weighted down and watered down elixirs of life’s lessening tune. Unable to front the demonic faces — familial, self, collective, and ancestral baggage consanguinity — knocking one to their knees, left sorting through the rubble.

Anxious to get out of Dodge, make the mark of empirical standing — on the forefront of settling down to family dinners with great conversation and plans of another day. Time for buckling up and lacing another to boot — kicking one’s behind to knuckle grinding and blood draining day-to-day.

Brick by brick, mortar’s pestle grinding of herbal remedies whispered during the dreams, molding the clay — hand over hand with life’s wheels a-spinning. The littles entering the scene — inherited wisdom of the ages — foreign concepts, but truths felt deep within the heart of it all — these are the greatest of teachers.

Life’s uncertainties, twisted seduction of right and left further the extremes — leading us back the center of there is — all there was. The mainstream allurement of magic rectangles enticing algorithmic ads asking for our hands in marriage — leaving us empty inside, hollowed-out veins echoing deeper understandings of our existence.

Knowing and living out — as we came to be — trusting our guides, spiritual influence that remains unseen. Returning to the river banks of childlike percipient — alpha and the omega, always present are we — coursing through our veins.

Hollow bone, empty vessel — filling with marzipan sweetest of desires — choosing colors within our canvas, adopting ancient techniques of painting our days — coursing through our veins, love remains.

~Ani Po


Thank you J.D. Harms and the whole Scrittura family for housing these words and for teasing my brain with this prompt.

For more on this prompt, I was thoroughly mesmerized by Joe Luca and his response to this prompt.


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