Teacup, Saucer, Out

Cracked are the fingertips of our soul

With the promise of winter’s cracked fingertips — broken spells of hope — we look to the salve nourishing our soul. Like the art of filling cracks — beast mode tossing another teacup to oblivion — kintsugi prevails with a warm sip of elderberry, turmeric and ginger.

No longer chasing tail — plucking stars from the sky — hoping for something greater.

No longer dreaming of a false reality, begging the winds to spread more cheer.

Sitting in the desert for 40 days — 40 nights — contemplating. All existence. I’ve come to one final conclusion — It All Is.

Turning back the clocks of time — resetting circadian rhythms — hoping to gain more light in darkened times. Falling short of longer days — entering silenced thought. Embrace the shadows drowning tune.

It is time.

Reset the clocks — chapter books — turning pages — spinning our cup with more emphasis on the varied colors etched into the kiln-dried flesh of broken will. We are.

It is time.

~Ani Po

Well, this was not exactly where I thought I was going, but not a bad place to end up — daydreaming on the mountaintops. Thank you Paroma Sen, for the original prompt of daydreaming on the train. Sorry for not staying focused, drifting immediately into the mountains.

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