Courage to Travel Against Time Itself


Prose Poetry on Self Realization

Courage to Travel Against Time Itself

Dancing shoes filled with Inspiration

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

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

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Back to the Whirling Dervish


Back to the whirling dervish

Childlike understanding of ease

Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak on Unsplash

Sitting by the fire, sipping our favorite morning elixir — sharing stories of roads past traveled encounters, recalling moments of joy and disappointments — subtleties out on the open winds, carried tunes of fathered and weathered myriad of occasional hit and miss targets bullseye of the accord.

What did you do last night? Were you alone? Did you feel lonely?

Quite the contrary! While you are out getting fancy like that and the eldest tearing up the town, universal influence brought me to the space of deeper understanding, contemplation yet again of the many back roads leading to this place in time. The biggest decision was to order a favorite pie from the locals — filled with meat or vegetarian delight — chosen combo frigid as a cardboard cutout, with very little nutritional value but memories of childhood late nights spinning dervish and singing to heart’s content — left baking a frozen pizza.

Like a movie projector, flashing upon a screen — whole life’s scenic misunderstandings presenting new translated light-giving thought to shortcomings — as if I had any choice at all. Deeper into the sliced reality between the sausage, onions, and mushrooms, create a perfect storm of mouth-watering favor-filled ambiance and salivary glands exploding.

Portioning into the night before, like our favorite slice of time lost somewhere between that moment on the shores of Lake Michigan — father putting a stop to my fantasizing of a world — golden rays of sunshine — to the arrival of self-actualizing persona — coming into my own. Forgetting and remembering everything — past, present, future giving hope — grace-filled knowing into songs birthing and vibratory mix among the collective whole.

Back to the whirling dervish, childlike understanding of ease — into the void, traveled daily, common practice of sitting with life’s painful memories — self, random and isolated bodies foretold onto the psychosomatic response to histories wounds opening flesh-bound scars mnemonic — holding long enough, deciphering codes.

Fusing past and present — greasy three-eyelet leathered originals or slip-on for comforts toting supported Orson plain toe loafers — the go-to no matter the occasion. Pause — entered sacred space of dance and song — Sombarai taking a soul-filled journey, sharing in gratitude for all — leading to this point in time.

Ladders rung, climbing coming to an end — reaching topside of paradoxical, whimsical heart-song accentuating momentary movements — feeding on mana’s favored dish. Filled, energetic beings arrive — fleeting self-conflicting storytelling once told by ancestors circled fireside chats.

Tossing the favorites — a pair of shoes once worn at all occasions — returning to the grounding, earthen effects — barefoot stepping while kissing great mother with every step. Footprints — sans carbon-filled accounting — leaving trails for the others to follow, inviting trailblazers to take life in their hands.

Remaining vulnerable furthermore barefoot — the preferred method of travel, re-writing past and future endeavors, creating — more accurately accepting present tense happenstance — all-encompassing knowing rather than a self-loathing disease of what was before.

~ Ani Po


Much gratitude to Christine Graves for her recent prompts in Promptly Written, Ravyne Hawke for holding sacred space in her publishing house, Diana C. for bringing the family back to fireside chats, telling tales of traveled shadow-works and sacred song and to the whole editing team on Know Thyself Heal Thyself.

Photo by Fadi Xd on Unsplash

I often put headphones on, tuning out the world — entering a world of collective thought or merely made up thinking, carried throughout the week. Here is the song, on repeat, during this creation. May explain the feels and chills that may or may not come through the words shared on the 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