The Journey Called 2021


Collective prompt of poetry

The Journey Called 2021

What Am I letting go of in 2021?

Photo by Ankush Minda on Unsplash

Too vague, the opening lines of our play-on-words — hurtful retort rocking me to the core. Helpful words or set in their ways of how things should be, this too shall I let go and all the other hurtful words — actions rhyming dis-harmoniously from the right-winged and the left — blindly forgetting they are the same bird.

Years come and go, some more hurtful than the next — this year, especially cranked up like a series of fifteen-inch sub-woofers pounding penetrating bass into our core. Still, in cautionary tales of last year’s pandemic scares — of loss, more violence and fighting amongst family members senselessly for what one believes to be true.

Standing firmly in one’s own — self-realizing knowing and unknowing of life’s greatest mysteries, none other than the human construct — creative realities of individualization. Letting go of past — hurtful branches of a deeply rooted tree — cutting off rotting limbs from the remaining — making room for greater blossoming — springtime’s promise to another spurt.

Empty-handed, hollowed-bones — room for whatever is thrown in our direction, allowing things to remain, repel or hover about in mysterious fashion without ever fully understanding — of its arrival. Going with the flow — like winds directional calls, singing and dancing to various tunes — entering and passing through the deepest caverns of our soul.

What am I letting go of in 2021?

Not a thing — for there is no longer a clinging to what-ifs and whatnots, expectations of how everything shall turn out — remaining in mystery, enjoying the passing of time itself — there will be those who challenge these words — so be it. Greater is the soul — freely moving about — even in the face of adversity.

No discredit to those falling victim to co-workers lashing out — carrying evil spirits wherever they go — or the loss of a loved one to senseless crimes not understood. Echoed through the media — pouring more fear into our homes — cutting off the power cords to negatives favorite song.

We stand among each other — naked and afraid — vulnerable to those who bow to the wicked tongues, offering daily reminders to the right-winged and left — being a part of a greater body. The left and right cannot fly without returning to the body of kindness — for those unwilling, remaining grounded in their misery.

Pictures books, scrapbooks, memories of ill-fated truth — letting go of chapters before, this twenty-twenty-one included — rejoicing on how far we have come — we have arrived. What good is dwelling over the old pictures, ancient as the saber-toothed tiger going instinct — nothing has changed from then to now.

One story, none different than the next — varying characters and thematic squeals of echoing song — return to kindness. Looking inwardly, finding truth — singing a new song into brighter days of twenty twenty-two.

~Ani Po



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

Respondent numbers to the very least of worries


Respondent numbers to the very least of worries

Rewarding self — karmic debt paid in full

Photo by Laura Baker on Unsplash

Into the darkest nights, bittersweet cacophony playing in the backdrop — leading out of sight, visually impaired as the masses collective vibratory thought teases — temptingly challenging self-belief in a greater whole. Remaining sure-footed on a path less traveled, then sings my soul — heartfelt chorus leading home, distant galaxies calling out our name, noticing a similar thread binding the all within the all.

With play-on-words –unscripted prompts from the cosmic appearance of the apathetic befalling heavenly divided tongue, further separating the sheep and wolves from the daily stories, falling prey to predator’s sharpened pen. Stepping into the Canvas — brush in hand, quill’s magical tones, laying the foundation with a single seed — grain of sand carrying memories of whole planetary involvement.

There is not a single clap for clap interaction, but true seekers’ binding name — written in the Great book privy to those purest hearts. Infinite gratitude for those arrivals — notebooks in hand, writing themselves worthy of timelessness and sacred volumes of inspiring words for the next of kin — reading another pilgrim’s journey of self-realization.

Oh, limitless words non-binding constraints — rebel yells the non-conforming literary terms and regulations, merely expressing the day-to-day, month-to-year — inviting others to follow intimate moments leading the way home. Non-attachment to shared realities is seen in only a way individually spelled out for those ready to receive.

Act, not doing, speaking only truth through our hands guided works within the Great Mystery of it all — stemming from a place not seen by mortals. Respondent numbers to the very least of worries — rewarding self — karmic debt paid in full, no longer attached to monetary value — the check is in the mail.

~Ani Po



The deeper we dive into self, the smaller our community of like-minded folk. Quality, not quantity of such, paving the way for deeper understanding of who we are within the greater whole. A shoutout to two writers who share for deeper purpose and understanding, not tempted by the typical reciprocation spoken of on this and other platforms. Marcus for sharing thoughts and inspiring words, drawing our attention to deeper insight.

Sharing Words for remaining true to the word itself.


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