Imagine for a moment; you’re standing on the veranda, Of a beautiful Queenslander Style home, Surrounded by an abundance of blue toned gum trees… The humidity of the day has made their eucalypt smell, Intensely fill the air ~ though not as bad as the not far away gidgees…
In a moment the sky swiftly darkens to shades off deep charcoal grey, Whilst the dust filled wind roars through the leaves, You take shelter in the most secure part of the house, As the sky seems to literally open up with heavy rain, You can’t see the trees, for this style of storm can only douse.
The raindrops landing on the roof are near deafening, Yet the distant lightning’s thunder still grumbles overhead, And one can still hear the ping of the hail when it starts, Thus one can only hope that amongst the wind and hail, That ‘tis only water to be what this downpour imparts…
Presently you notice the rain eases then stops, Near as abruptly as it began it’s now calm, Venturing out there's minimal debris but the yard’s inundated, Though this much water shall bring the rain lillys up, Thus for now bowing to mother natures prowess ’tis fated.
As a feather falls unto the earth after falling from so very high, It’s journeys far from over for a new one ’tis soon nigh… Whilst it may be carried on the breeze for a little while, Down a stream and to a child's hand in such a graceful style, One cannot help but wonder what it’s lifetime held before, All the sights the bird experienced creating the energetic stories it may have in store…
For a growing number now know our world is energetic, And that some have ways to discover the too often tragic, Stories of the world around us in various ways, Through items such as feathers should they to us their stories convey, Though elements at times are lost to translations art, Filtered through the perspective of those ’tis to impart…
For ’tis far from just the energetic stories of our earth that in this way are effected… Our perspectives are our entire life views being selectively projected, Into every moment we walk in this world and elements in our time beyond, For we leave fragments everywhere like breadcrumb notes of our life’s song! Like clues in a treasure hunt for those in the future to find, All the stories that make up our lives that we’ve left trailing behind.
Thus one need only a feather to uncover the story of a bird, Whom Soared above clouds ’n’ up before any other creature stirred; The leaf of a tree through it’s perspective up rather high; Or a pebble to unveil what it’s noted going on nearby… The key to it all is to just learn to listen and feel, Then take note of what you may not realise is actually real!
Imagine a moment; Your walking along an overgrown track, Red sandy dirt beneath your feet ~ warm morning sun caressing your back… The morning air ’tis a little bit sticky yet pleasant enough to breathe deeply with ease, As is a normal summers morn in the Outback, as the birdlife flit where they please…
Thus as you notice a flock of inch high wrens in a bush, Shades of blue and brown amongst the green, You can’t help but wonder ‘would they be like a young chicken to pat?’ As they look so soft, delicate and light as they hop through the branches and preen.
Next thing you know a trio of parrots zoom just o’er head, Enchanted by their multi green and yellow blur you follow, Though never leaving your path for the bush can be dangerous ’tis said, Yet you still watch these mostly green feathered beauties disappear into a tree hollow.
So as the grasses sway in the slightest of breeze with grace, You continue upon your chosen track with haste, For the morning now warms to the border of your comforts desire, Thus for now leaving the bush to itself ’tis what it shall of you now require…
When we gain an idea we want to bring to the world, Letting it sit too long in our minds is the worst thing we can do, For too long and it shall begin to diminish much like a distant dream, Into the abyss that we all have in our minds that resembles thought stew…
Thus despite our urgency to create our idea’s into this world, We need first find a moment to fit them into our day, For we’ve all a million things to remember to do daily, And adding to our list in abundance can just send burnout our way.
Though we also need to act upon our ideas hastily, Or at least take the time to write down all their components within our mind, To reduce their likelihood of becoming an element of the thought stew, Lost to us possibly then forever to the universes time.
And yet our best ideas are always able to find a way to transpire, At times even keeping us up all night so they may come into reality, For when an idea fills our ‘passion meter’ to overflowing, We cannot not create it through to its totality!
As we venture this moment into the darkness of the earths crust, A tiny seed loaded with potential can be found - knowing of no light, For ’tis blissfully ignorant of what shall promptly be in store, When it breaks through the comfort of the ground with all its might…
Thus enjoy it’s moment in the comforting darkness, Drawing in energy from the soil like we do breath, ‘Till it feels as if it could overflow or burst, Yet takes another ‘breath’ despite little capacity left.
Then the tip of a shoot breaks through into the warm dirt, Slowly making it’s way venturing forth towards the cooler air, Whilst another is soon making its way towards earths core, Though which direction ’tis going… the seed is actually unaware.
Yet still it continues growing it’s way through the ground, Root tips weaving their way deeper into the earth, All the while being fueled by the abundant energy of the surrounding soil, That strengthens the deeper its connection becomes to nearth…
Thus whilst winding roots start securing it within the soil, As deep as it can extend physically then energetically beyond, It’s delicate shoot that’s venturing skyward breaks through the top crust, Unfurling its tiny new stem and leaf like a freshly formed frond.
Basking in the morning light with a dew drop coated leaf, Warming as the sun creeps slowly higher into the sky, Another leaf soon begins emerging from deep within, As it lackadaisically grows bit by bit a little more high…
Eventually our little seed - now a full grown plant, Reaches the point in which it starts to form many a bud, Soaking in the absorbent light from both moon and sun, Whilst still drawing sustenance to it’s core from the nights cool mud.
So ’tis with roots deeply connected towards our earths comforting core, And it’s leaves reaching high into the healing warm light of the sun, Delicately each aromatic petal of every bud unfolds to bloom, For as long as need be... ‘Till it’s time ’tis done...
Then comes the moment it’s petals shall wilt and leaves shall fall, As it seraphically returns to the earth it was born, And just like the last breath that left ones lungs, It has now aligned to the wind - hence gone.
As the wind blows through the gum leaves, The ants creep leaf to leaf through lower bushes, Grandmother sun bears down making the ground Too hot to walk upon and yet late afternoon there’s near not a sound…
For even the birdlife retreats in the summer, Seeking treetops cooler or some other water source, As the heat of an outback summers day can be unbearable, And ’tis abundantly worse before rain finds its course!
And yet there's an element of magic in the Aussie Outback, One wont find similar to any place else, Though hard to define ’tis nothing short of enchanting, Guaranteed to make you question if you’re even standing!
For when the breeze wisps the bushland into an oceanic chorus, And the red sand beneath ones feet ’tis hot as red coals, The wildlife looks hugable though it’s often dangerous, As one’s mind blunders things into different roles…
Plants are delicate in design and robust and sturdy, Whilst the colourful birdlife fill the air with song, If one’s to close their eyes and just feel and listen, ’Tis nothing short of magic imagining where each element may belong…
The Australian Outback though it be known, For vast red sand dunes and blue grey gumtrees... Can near be a place of horror stories once the weather is warm, Rather than the place tourists enjoy in wintertime's ease...
For many a heatwave that shan’t ease at night, ’Tis only eased slightly by the erratic wild storms delight, Whilst reptiles move into houses that are kept cooler, and the spiders appear where you least expect them... Creating the perfect place for real life nightmares to stem!
The wildlife ~ though cute ~ lines the roads all the more, For the slightest of moisture dusk through dawn has in store, Destroying both themselves and one’s car should they happen to startle, Creating yet another not so delightful debacle...
For to drive in the day though the blistering heat, As the bitumen melts is equally unsweet.. The Car’s hot enough to burn you when touched, And if the air conditioner goes - pray you survive, The heat inside is worse to endure and make it alive!
Thus is an element of the woes of the Outback in summertime, When thoughts of cold beers and water styled fun, Feature in thoughts this third of the year for most whom dwell, Knowing despite the blistering mayhem ‘tis a place truly second to none!
In the abyss of the nighttime post midnight ‘till dawn, One may think near not a thing may go on… Yet the bushland ’tis oft’ more alive night than day, For in the cool of the night in summer ’tis easier to play…
The old farm dogs may bark at the roo’s by the fence, Making those unadapted a touch on edge or tense, Owl’s are obviously patiently awaiting their prey, Which slithers or scampers wherever be it’s way.
Yet there always shall be times in the dark of the moon, When thing’s do happen to seem rather out of tune, As we perceive the nighttime to be a style of dark abyss, Fueling our minds into imagining something amiss…
Despite our knowing it to be far from the truth, Most stemming from fairy tale stories in our youth, We see night too often as a dark abyss to fear, Rather than just a time with less light to hold equally dear.
A cooler time where joey’s play and echidna’s snuffle, Snakes slither and wild pigs create a kerfuffle… Kultars and gecko’s explore to feast on their favorite insects, Whilst frogs and crickets flex their tune of dialects…
’Tis actually a sweeter time in the Outback vast, For the blistering heat of the day has finally passed, Allowing one to enjoy the serenity found in the abyss, Sans the chaos of the day, to replenish in the nights bliss.
Imagine for a moment, Your at a cozy quiet camp site, Deep in the Aussie bushland, Upon a damp, densely foggy morn…
Where the crisp morning air is what fills your lungs, As you venture out of your cozy warm swag into the fog, Taking a moment to revive the campfires coals, 'Fore finding a spot to sit upon a sturdy bark free log…
The fire soon enough starts warming the air in reach, And provides the heat needed for your morning warm beverage of choice, As you sip slowly birdsong breaks through the bush lands silence, ‘Tis nothing short of seraphic to hear their orchestral voice.
Then as the performance seems to reach near its peak, A rouge ray of sunshine breaks through the fog, Warming your soul from where it first touches, As cell by cell it starts dissolving any remaining dull monologue.
Effervescent style this warmth from the sun’s first rays, Ripples throughout your being then outward, Slowly driving back the surrounding fog cover, ‘Till there’s no chance of it returning today ‘till night-covers bombard…
Thus in the soul healing warmth of the early morn’s sun, One sits sipping seraphically one’s warm beverage, Absorbing the bliss of one’s bushland surrounds, Knowing for this day ‘tis now an abundance of bliss that has leverage…
When mother nature throws us her extremes, Most flail, hide, or at least follow the advice of guidance… Whilst she uproots/scorches/deluges all we know around us, In her uncontrollable, destructive ~ though beautiful dance.
Yet amongst us lies a minority of often unseen hero’s, Those whom champion their determined grit above the rest, Always there to bolster those of us left vulnerable, In the face of Mother Natures more destructive types of quest.
They’re the one’s always to be found within the forefront, Helping others when extreme elements come into play, The backbone of most voluntary emergency services, A vital part of our communities often overlooked in a way…
Thus let us all take a moment to acknowledge these everyday warriors, Whom would be by our side should we ever be of their need, Raring to their opportunity to lend their helping hand, Be it by placing sandbags, clearing debris or organising a feed…
For in the face of Mother Nature we’re just like every other species, Despite our ability to create so much polar to her natural, Yet with those around ready to help all within in her path, That truly can make us be perceived as just that little more impactful.
The Poetic Life 2.0 