Nothing More to be Written

Into Voided Presence

Life coming to a halt — three-year-old pleading with daddy — are you happy? Levy breaks — flooding plains of all existence — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

Seeker pursuing — answers to all things — stroking ego’s stronghold — protecting self falsely and relentlessly. End of the line — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

A million thoughts all at once — collective knowing — in your face and heels digging into the sand. Time running out — endless and incessant — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

Fighting on the streets — worldwide pandemic — self, ripping at the seams while collective misery tooting their horns. Present be are we — observing translation lost among peer to peer — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

Caught in the moment — losing our thoughts — dissociation from broken wings. Nothing more to be written — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

Into the voided thought — nothing and everything giving birth in a single breath — annihilation and construct colliding. Sitting atop a lonely star — breathing life into new galaxies — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

Nothing more to be written — all has been spoken before — speechless the return. Awestruck by nature’s embrace — nowhere to turn but inward gaze — letting go — allowing the flow.

~ Ani Po

Thank you Zay Pareltheon, Marilyn J Wolf, Viraji Ogodapola, Samantha Lazar, Wry Welwood, Paroma Sen, and the Scrittura family for sharing this dance.

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

Broken and Flawed

Imperfectly perfect are we

Beautiful is the Canvas — as it was in the beginning — till daylight no longer flickers. Depending the foot — starting our day — changed perception and reality within.

Our first thought carrying a tune — following steps — dissonance or perfect harmony of the original score.

The morning of our lives — filled with great experiences — coming to a halt is Great Mystery — what afternoons may hold.

Mistakes, trauma — not-so-good events all before noon. Our days broken — just praying to get through. Broken is the Canvas — sorting through the rubble. Acceptance, forgiveness — battling through.

Broken is the Canvas as most flawed — lay before. Our inner Canvas —  scattered across an inner room of consciousness. We choose. We step. Hesitantly — moving forward by a flicker of hope.

Forgiveness of afflictions — transgressors — even worse than last. Let us not forget self — imperfectly perfect as we are.

Acceptance for Broken Canvas — scattered across the floor. Space cracks between the pieces — acorns nut divinely lifting — spreading its aviary wings. Filled — abundantly so — bound by Spirit as we soar.

Broken is the Canvas — simplest of form. Beautiful is the Canvas — panning out perspectives — grandeur is the Way.

Hanging with the Mighty Oak Tree
planting seeds within our minds
vacant space from tiny fruits — flourishing thought. 

Chaotic world
inviting us back
splitting seeds
at the foothold of mother’s tree.

Little acorn implanted
vacant space splitting atoms
written upon one’s heart
love of the mighty oak tree.

Changing winds
transforming seasons standing firm
heart to skies fervent reckoning
heart space growing wider

Stronger

Abundant are we.

~ Ani Po

Thank you Zay Pareltheon, Marilyn J Wolf, Viraji Ogodapola, Samantha Lazar, Wry Welwood, Paroma Sen, and the Scrittura family for sharing this dance.

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