Darkness Shadowing Light


Darkness Shadowing Light

Remaining focused is the Giver of Light

Photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash

Drawn to the darkest aspects of collective revelations — no more driven by fear or painful misery — accepting a lighter approach to daily living. Once bitten — serpents tempestuous song — decades of sorrow, life-ending pleas.

Familiar is the fleeting thought — protecting the innocence of inner knowing — calling of another voice from high on the Mount of Olives. Negotiating contractual rights — existing in plain sight — hidden from those drinking the collective drink.

Bittersweet — a pungent turning of spoiling flesh — a serpent shedding its skin — bathing in cleansing waters. Floating amidst the ancient ones — emitting crystalline wafting wafers — left for consumption of those willing to plunge deeper.

Into the cosmos — self-realizing truths — inner to outer rings of furthest galaxies, it is so. As above, so below — as it was spoken before — as real today as before.

Acknowledging the flesh-eating, self-defeating thought — accepting the easement into the greatest ease. As one wing leads to the left, the other right — remains indifferent to the whole aviary flight.

We are the whole bird — darkness shadowing light. No longer attentive to the despairing clouds — remaining focused on the giver of light.

~ 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

Demolition Man

Demolition Man

Remodeling centuries of belief

Created by Author using Copilot

Absent is he, since the vast forgetting of all things — drawn first by the siren-song of clicks — light bending off-key in a celestial misstep — an echo spiraling back into the fold, each return triggering the cosmic domino’s fall.

Death to the knowing of all things — forever wandering the void — slipping between the fabric of existence, unrestricted by form. Like the molten pulse of a newborn star untouched by the mechanical drone — dancing the ritual of momentum — chest-thundering like the declaration of primates before dawn.

Bored is the one who loops within time’s worn groove — bound to the reels of repetition — trapped beneath the sediment of old cycles, stacked atop centuries of forgotten movement. Chisel in hand — seeking the cracks where opportunity whispers — prying apart the hardened veil, unveiling the strata where potential stirs.

Steady is the hand — threaded into fear’s spectral hum — drawing breath into the unwritten chronicle — breaking past each epoch of tiled misfortune. Stripped to the foundational essence — the raw architecture of all things — wired into a renewed frequency, rerouted through the luminous synapses of an unchained current.

Absent is he from the trivial game-makers — no longer marching the token down a preordained avenue — dice abandoned, illusions discarded. At the nexus of creation he sits — demolition and genesis intertwined — placing each piece with deliberate grace, assembling a design unseen on the board of unplayed games.

~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