Time Keeps on Slipping

Time Keeps on Slipping

Into the future

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

Holding pattern continues — unsteady footing while butt-sores inflate — a noble whisper’s little voice entered tune.

One cannot fly with the eagles while hanging out with turkeys. ~ Duane

Patiently, the heartbeat waits — to sing valiantly the echoes of canyon song — anticipation mounting whilst the waiting place gets darker as days go by.

Promised zoom calls falling flat — no answer to declaring finite — hence, we wait and write to tell another tale. Spoken words — transcribed into spacious thought — coming to life as promised by eagle’s glare.

Neighboring neighbor slumbers the day away — whilst flight anticipated awaits — no time to lose, no time wait. Off and away — soaring higher than yesterday — I want to fly like an eagle — Steve Miller calling, let my spirit carry me.

Tick-tocking beats — goes the waiting place sanded grains — excitement is mounting with feathers fanning out for northern skies. Cold is the blistery calling — Superior’s bone-chilling charade — packing everything from flip-flops to triple-down goose feathers.

Chapter’s closing song — interlude of this inner space — vocal cords readied for the new song’s sizzling melody. Answered call — great pause at hand — soon enough — doing what we love.

~ Ani Po

This past week, I spent more time with licensing agencies and health departments on hold. Today, I waited for a Zoom call to review all my paperwork for starting my next chapter. While on hold, I wrote this piece. Edited while waiting to Zoom.

Thank you James G Brennan for the nudge, a welcomed one at that. Much gratitude for the Literary Impulse, Somsubhra Banerjee, Priyanka Srivastava, Rahul S, et el.

Tagging a few who might want to share their words Sally A Mortemore, Michelle Scorziello, A. N. Tipton, David Rudder, J.D. Harms. Many more favorite writers I could choose.

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

An Invitation to Inner Peace

An Invitation to Inner Peace

Choosing to dance to inner solace

Photo by mana5280 on Unsplash

Early on in Oljita’s coming out — obsessed with the collective grinding of fingers bones — noticing very little flesh left on his phalangeal pointers. Something had to give — before the levy breaks — washing everything away, drowning in personal misery and fear-ridden monkey-mind thought.

Were the others pretending — on prescribed or social medications? The accuser — Oljita making the shift — stepping into an arena foreign to him.

They are so happy! How can they possibly be so happy? 

Mateo greets Oljita, “what troubles you, Oljita?” 

How can they be so happy?

It is merely a feeling that grows from within. Feed this happiness, and it continues to sprout new branches — reaching for the skies with unlimited knowing — we are all here at once. Chaotic spirits play tricks on our inner psyche — pushing the peaceful self-illustrated being out to pasture.

Studying the masses — tormentors and blissful entities all around — noting the movements are either constructive or destructive — Oljita must choose which dance to partake in.

Invitation sent out — all are welcome — beings of inner turmoil and energetic shape-shifting creators presenting even more. They came in drones — an overwhelming response — to the invitation for a peaceful resolution.

Hearing what they had to say — Oljita decided to follow in the Creator’s footsteps — warrior-like mentality — never really pausing to hear what others think. Maybe just a little — with discernment of footings beat to what comes next.

Once lost — Oljita bought into the building of empirical stature and leaving legacies in his wake — falling flat on his face a thousand times, only to get up and go at it again. Missing the signs — written in the stars, book titles dropping into his lap, and even words piercing his heart — choosing to mimic ‘the others.’

Poverty thinking — is what he heard — thundering voices demanding his attention — until the noise was too great — no longer able to drown it out by addictions numbing tale. Poverty thinking — magnetic pulling of others’ poverty thinking until the levy broke — sink or swim to the other shores is what Oljita was left to sort.

Swim dammit! Telling himself with a similar deafening voice — as the ones calling to him before. Who’s voice is this? Matters not, but whether you listen to this inner voice.

Oljita steps into a valley of death — taking anywhere from a month to years of having to cross the baron desert — not knowing what awaits on the other side. Having to leave everything behind — with only a small canister of water and whatever morsels he found in the valley — spending years studying the rotten corpses left here to die.

Emerging on the other side — there truly is a land of milk and honey — angelic horns playing for yet, another arrival of warrior’s tune. Oljita climbs from the pit of despair — stepping into the ease of what may be or unknowing of day’s bringing forth.

Spirit-lifting physical and mental exhaustion — mana filling every cell — Oljita morphs for the first time. Transferring into a hawk — flying to greater heights — seeing for the first time with greater perspective.

From hawk to bear, a panther to the serpent — aware of thoughts in collective harmony and disharmony alike — Oljita sits on the hillside with his new friend Smokey Joe. Sharing a prayer — releasing all thoughts — poverty and abundant wishes passing like the westerly winds — he transforms into the prayer itself. Like a puff of smoke passing with the Creator’s breath — present are they, who speak without saying a word.

~ Ani Po

Thank you Somsubhra Banerjee, Priyanka Srivastava, and the whole Literary Impulse community for sharing this piece.

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