The Author Seeks Counsel

The Author Seeks Counsel
shifting present-day self and collective whole

Here we sit at the brink of changing course, quill in hand, keyboard clap, clapping, daring entrance to the void once again. Just as The Author writes, rewrites, tranquil moments, transmuted thoughts, once a darkened moon, dispirit thoughts consuming self-inflicting misery upon the cosmic all-encompassing, infinite presence, scientifically unable to prove.

Fiction, prose, non-fiction, truth reality obscured by mental illness or mental precision, lacking the courage to go against the grain. Filled with emotion, welling eyes, pouring rivers and gateways to past and present moments of hurtful crimes, traumatic times, ancestral or intrinsic factors believed to be real, sitting at the zero-point of no return, The Author seeks counsel in the others.

Looking to the East, six other directional pulls, wisdom keepers transcribing in other galaxies, truth or apocryphal-like, mythical story-lines, calling on the ancient Gods to fill this void, Author remains alone to write and rewrite Chapter one and henceforth. Unanswered prayers, crickets reply, sitting within the medicine interwoven fabric of desire, deeper understanding enters the house of possibility.

Our responsibility says he, true nobility transpiring from yesterdays and yesteryears, not better than anyone but thyself own be true. Called upon by the ancients, star keepers, galaxy birth-givers of life, answering true spirited calls, no longer hesitant, no longer a doubting Thomas.

Rewriting last line, switch-words of sorts, carrying negativity to positively understood truest of vocabulary, transcending old paradigm, fixations of what if’s and whatnots, entering new vocabulary underwriters taking note.

No longer hesitating, desirous becoming; no longer doubting, forever acting with assurance. Just like that, snapping of the fingers, rewritten programs of the subconscious to conscious, it is so. The Author standing by, armies of ‘others’ by her side, ready to write, rewrite the wrongs of self, collective, unanswered thought-felt realities, calling of arms of the many, take up your quill, scratch out, onus probandi, erasure playing in the backdrop, the time is Now.

What more to be stated? Energetic beings are floating amidst, nodding, giving affirmations to what was written before, chiliad of spent years on balancing fears and joyous returns, juggling a thousand lifetimes at the brink of extinction. Forward-moving, ink blotting with self-interpreting beings coming forth, it is being written.

In the beginning, it was giving birth to sacred breath, present-day blackened and darkened shadowy void, future tense aforementioned thoughts tranquility, it is written upon the page, hearts true home singing sacred tunes, forever shall it be written upon the sentiments of the many. Call to arms! Grabbing sword in hand, slicing through previous beingness of what subconscious taught, henceforth simulating unseen and unspoken, shifting present-day self and collective whole, it is so.

It Is So.

~ Ani Po

_ _ _


With the ability to write and re-write our stories, we the authors of stories, take responsibility in our words, as to give meaning to our current situations, accepting or acknowledging our conditions of life’s many offerings and setting a tone of offering to the readers to take up the challenge for self and the collective whole.

This piece is an extension of thought, gathered over time. Here are other pieces to the puzzle, if your care to read.


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

Seeking Voice of Another

Seeking Voice of Another
disappearing into a little different

Seeking out a new voice through which these words travel,
unbeknownst great attachment to whom I’ve become,
with predictable chaos hidden within plain sight,
transfixed reality sharpening gaze piercing eyes,
awkwardly staring off into space,
in hopes of becoming invisible,
disappearing into the cosmic masterpiece,
amidst the quantum-time paralleled universe.

Yes, wanting to disappear,
briefly and annotating others skillset quill-like mastery,
absented comparison, adoration, and or loathing,
merely observing a thousand many faces of the same author,
many pens, keyboards affixed phalangeal tapping in rhythmic tones,
backward mirror of time following rules, not this personas forte,
peeking at another’s desktop, writings upon their page
thousand many faces of the same great author.

Oh, how my heart aches, searching for another voice,
comforting lounge pants mirrored silken cloth losing my religion,
confessing to the birds not giving a damn but to their scavenging ways
of knowing when their world is filled to the rim of ‘all there is,’
singing their favorite tune sending out invitations for all
to give witnessing voice additional heart-warming sounds
of sacred songs carrying wings of flight to far-off lands,
returning once again at childhood’s end.

Pain and misery wanting to be heard,
shuffling back to the end of the line,
giving pause to what was before,
hearing words foreign to auditory self-inflicting,
hallucinating or real uncertainties remaining true
to given words, free-flowing spirit ought not to speak,
awe-inspiring glance within open expanse,
humbled acceptance in hopes of meeting the criteria.

Still looking
for a new voice,
checking outside
under the rocks,
behind buckthorn’s naked flesh
out of orbit,
out of time,
out of space.

~ 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