The Australian bushland;
A menagerie of sound and life
Step back from distractions
And walk wild, rife.
Rekindle your inner animal
And free yourself; flee!

I wrap Your arms of love around me
Warmth fills my heart.
I breathe in deep.
Tears well up, knowing Your intimacy.

Love.
Your eyes are on me.
I am not alone.
I don’t need to struggle,
Because I have Your attention.

But do You have mine?
Please renew my mind,
So I can know the deeper things of You.
Love.

Deep darkness, despair.
How could you know, you’re not there?
Empty mind I crave,
But constant chatter takes me to the grave.

Fleeing, running; working, studying, drugs, and stuff,
Distractions from revelation; I am enough.
Progress is prized; the final nail,
We need true clarity; the holy grail.

Opening out and up to the mystery unknown,
Here, flourishing can become our own.
Insights of the true us,
Found when there’s nothing, no sound, no ***...

Embracing loneliness can be the pearl sought,
Moving away from things ought,
Turning to the unknown,
Is where true dreams are sewn.

And it died.
I didn't realise trees
needed watering,
but they do.
It's silly to think,
how I didn't understand this,
I mean, the garden looked so green
from all the rainwater,
but there it is,
my dead tree,
at the top of my garden;
and we all pay homage to it,
now dead.
Is that the same with other losses?
Friendships and marriages?
Jobs, possessions, conflicts and disparages?

I was not born of this time,
The 1920s are more me.
The swinging, the fast feet bopping over mine,
Maybe not the cigarettes, but G&T's,
Most certainly. My curls break line
and make chaos look magical glee.
I'd wear pearls draped lavishly fine,
And I'd stay up til early.

Do you know how hard
it is to pick up broken
eggshells scattered?
They shatter smaller and further
making picking up the pieces
painstakingly difficult;
fragile matter.

People say things like:
Where did that time go?
Things are moving so fast...
and it's true, and they are,
but when you're in the moment
they're not. It is only when
you look back or look in the mirror,
that you notice time has truly passed,
and you see the grey hairs;
and exclaim: "Oh, I am old now!"

With a roll of an English tongue
We pay tribute
to Maggie Smith, from Downton.
She was a rare breed,
The last of the ton
Playing around with Harry
And in a dear Sister Act a nun!
Bravo old Dame,
your efforts were not in vain!

Don't we live in a world
that is round? Why then,
do we say: "They came
from all the corners of the earth?"
Question everything, now that's sound!