Poetic response to thrice prompted

When my Spirit is Free

Receiving tools and resources already there

Returning to the center of it all, reflecting on the horses bucking thematic cries — ancient times before this period of collected tools already given by creatives kiss. Wishing upon a star — hoping for that great leap forward, we arrive on sturdy ground.

From the four winds greeted mind, body and spirit breathing dragon-like fire clearing forests of past undoubtedly — lost ways and tranquil moments of yesteryear. Ancestors and guides are awaiting timely steps — leading nowhere in particular — arriving punctually at heart’s centered chorus singing melodies of all creation.

Life’s journey — medicine wheels of time — spoken by the prophets and elders before — gathering more wisdom, tools creating a brighter day — forward-moving, ever-shifting, no longer looking back — barring pilgrims calling upon the antediluvian winds. Extending hands of knowing — those barricaded in their minds of fate-inflicted truths — snakeskin molting with deeper calling of a personal relationship with Great Mystery.

If I believed, therefore I Am — already present — not yet understood — travelers resting place, final chapter turning epic pages of lives untold abstruse. At the eye of the storm — peaceful, compassionate kiss — reflective images carried out into the modern-day.

Homecoming felicitations — weaving story-lines and songs of generations before, to come and forevermore — zero-point transmutation are we. Smiling outwardly, inwardly reflecting as far as the eyes can see — when my spirit is free.

Waterfalls and baron deserts
green pastures calling
angelic beings aiding and abetting
the interconnection of weaver’s omnipresence.

Drowning in misery
lifting to the great unknown
opening vast visionary pull
receiving tools and resources already there.

~ Ani Po

Pulling thoughts together from three different prompts, giving thanks to the creators of creative flow. Ravyne Hawke and jules for their contribution to KTHT February fun.

The Rules

1. Use the prompt to write a poem or personal essay.
2. *(Tag) Mention at least (3) three of your favorite writers (here at KTHT or elsewhere on Medium) and ask them to participate. Each of those writers will then mention at least (3) three more, and so on.
3. You may submit your story to KTHT or to any publication that allows prompts from other publications.
4. Regardless of where you submit your piece, You MUST include a link back to this page and (Tag) mention one or all of the KTHT editors — Diana C., Spyder, jules, or me, Ravyne Hawke.
5. List the prompt and these rules at the end of your poem or essay so that those you’ve (tagged) mentioned will know the rules.

Third prompt comes from Era Garg, when painting and words combine. I chose a painting when spirit and I danced with inspiration.

During this piece, Into the Mist playing on repeat. Please give it a listen, if you so choose.

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

Prose Poetry on Self Realization

Courage to Travel Against Time Itself

Dancing shoes filled with Inspiration

We witness the everyday miracles and heroic events of the living sense: police officers laying their lives down for justice, emergency medical technicians entering ‘hot zones’ to offer assistance to victims or wounded souls, firefighters entering blazing winds and six-alarm fires. Not enough, we seek the mystical and fictional characters depicting our feelings of doing great things.

Falling short of accepting powers within, we look on rivers despair, baron deserts fortified with dried up dreams of watering holes and natural oceanic flow. Frozen in times stronghold fearing thoughts, strangling the natural beauty of countries rose — struggling to bloom in an exile of flowering daisies.

Falling to our knees of a fallen garden — ten thousand miles of hot fire-like burning feet and sands of time ticking away at our supplanted minds, programmed by a system of dividing ways — centuries in the making, continuous cyclical changes within and conflicting battlefields held within our minds.

Crying out to the ancestors — those bold enough — humbly walking their talk — asking for strength, courage to travel against time itself. Now at this moment, we take up arms — dancing shoes filled with inspiration — writing into existence a better understanding of truth.

Moments glance — mirrored gaze — deep into the cosmic center of our being remains a little boy or girl waiting to rise against the machine. No more, no mas, noogise — enter the hero within, rising from the ashes — a phoenix rising and dragons taming of self-inflicting misery. It is time — holding sacred space for self and those a thousand years to come.

Great or small, heroic feats — broadcasting stories of modern-day — everyday heroes rising to save their neighbor’s son, horrific opposition staring them down at the O.K. Corral. Gun’s blazing, Quick Draw McGraw, laying down arms against a mother’s child before.

Simple is the way — reminding voices whispered assuring breath by the ancients bold enough — standing before the king and the armies of surrounding continents. Once again, falling to our knees — this time in the ground-breaking, budding gardens of Eden, cultivating a new harvest of nourishing thoughts filled with mana — spirit-filled knowing how all must be.

Recognizing the hero that always was, always will be — a part of self, forever Stepping into the Canvas of our soul, tapping into the Great Mystery of all there ever was. Turning off the media of self-destruction — tuning out the nay-saying words of decaying sheep-like story-lines as if there was ever any absolute — living on purpose, no longer seeking out what was already there from its conception.

~Ani Po

Not everyone will understand us, living our lives as we see fit. With theories and road maps created by another person’s thoughts, we are left with a choice of how to live life on purpose. Seeking, potentially all our lives, never really finding what we are looking for, we come to a place of knowing it was already there from the time of cosmic union and creation’s breath entering our nostrils, giving all-knowing life truths not accepted by the masses.

As it goes, poetic words, pulled from a vacant space of voided truths, we write to share ours — leaving others wishing for a decoder ring to how we might see.

Sorry Marcus aka Gregory Maidman for not spelling it out, but as you know — these words are left to tease or create a new world within the readers own. An invite to seek that which was not there before, only to arrive in the place that was always there before the mirrors of time.

No decoder ring present — left to find our way.

Thank you Spyder, for this weeks prompt. My time has been limited here, out creating a world beyond this one. I return to share my thoughts on a familiar tune — beating drums sacred song, faint enough to be heard in the hearts of all bipedal and animals alike.

Who am I to think I know anything? Truly I say to you, I do not. Merely sharing the voices in my head and songs from my heart.

Tagging a few favorites Camille Grady Monoreena Acharjee Majumdar Jenine Bsharah Baines, who share their own Hero’s Journey, in hopes they participate in this round robin of giving and receiving.

Thank you Diana C. for returning ‘the others’ to a great fire within, jules, Ravyne Hawke and Spyder for stoking the fires of our hearts and sharing words.

Listening to Mathias Duplessy while sharing these words, in hopes that the vibrational song reaches deep with your soul.

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