Grains of Sand

Grains of Sand

                      painting created with ChatGPT

Like grains of sand caught between the toes,
Life clings in quiet, uninvited prose.
Each step we take, a memory remains,
A whisper of joy, a shadow of pain.

Some we grasp with deliberate hand,
Moments we choose, like castles in sand.
But tides arrive with no regard,
And wash away what we held hard.

We carry fragments, fine and small,
From every rise, from every fall.
A laugh, a scar, a fleeting glance —
All tucked inside life’s shifting dance.

Time, the wind, will smooth the stone,
Yet every edge was once our own.
We are the beach, the wave, the shore —
Made of what came, and what’s no more.

So walk, and feel, and let it stay —
The sand, the soul, the soft decay.
For even what slips through the hand
Still shapes the heart, like grains of sand.

~Ani Po

Coming out of meditation, with words on my fingertips and thoughts of putting to song.

Verse 1

Sand between my weary toes,
Life it whispers, life it knows.
Every step, a song, a mark,
A morning light, a fading dark.

Chorus

Oh, grains of sand, through my hand they fall,
Still they tell the story, still they hold it all.
Every rise, every fall, every shifting land —
Life is written in the grains of sand.

Verse 2

Castles built with tender care,
Tides come rolling, unaware.
What we cling to drifts away,
But the heart remembers anyway.

Chorus

Oh, grains of sand, through my hand they fall,
Still they tell the story, still they hold it all.
Every rise, every fall, every shifting land —
Life is written in the grains of sand.

Bridge

Time will smooth the hardest stone,
But the edge was once our own.
Every scar, every glance,
Still belongs within the dance.

Final Chorus

Oh, grains of sand, through my hand they fall,
Still they tell the story, still they hold it all.
Every rise, every fall, every shifting land —
Life is written in the grains of sand.

Verse (fingerpicked, gentle):

G — D — Em — C
G — D — C — G

Chorus (strummed, fuller):

C — G — D — G
C — G — D — G
Em — C — G — D
C — G — D — G

Bridge (a little lift, maybe slower):

Em — C — G — D
Em — C — D — G

Who owns the rights to this song, if assisted by AI? Who has a guitar, to put to song?

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

Broken Fractals of Time


Broken Fractals of Time

Past, Present and Future Bleeding Out

Image created with CoPilot 

Cracked open, the prism bends time’s weary beam — a shimmer of futures refracted through silence. Pain, the sacred forge, molds motion from stillness, and we rise, not healed, but awakened.

Through veils of realms, our spirit drifts — between the ink of stars and the breath of the void. Reality is a window with no glass, suspended by will, guided by pulse.

The universal tether pulls soft and relentless — unseen current carved in sacred geometry. Knowledge whispers — ignorance sings — the soul dances where both melodies meet.

Ticking, ticking —

The time bomb of arrival hums its perfect tension — detonation not destruction, but revelation. Every moment cracks open eternity.
Yee, winged navigator of heart’s true frequency follow not maps but vibrations, ride tailwinds spun by invisible truths — echoes from beyond, always arriving — always known.

We do not wait for stars to blink permission — summoning constellations by gesture alone. To create is not to ask, but to become — an echo chamber of divine cause.

Within the shared breath — our thoughts forge flame, not flickers of doubt but fires of knowing. No longer broken — architects of shards — each fracture, a doorway to a deeper truth.

We speak, and reality listens.
We move, and dimensions bend.

To co-create is to hold the pen while time reconfigures the page.
Confident, we stride into uncertain sanctuaries — not to seek refuge, but to rearrange walls.

We are not guests in this universe, we are the hosts — the conjurers — the pulse.

So bring your will, and I’ll bring mine —
This canvas, infinite in its hunger.

What shall we paint next?

A skyline made of thought?

A heartbeat echoed across galaxies?

~Ani Po


Much gratitude to those who take the time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of themselves 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