Read introduction

A poem I wrote after walking through the wetlands of Perth

These Sacred bush lands.

Pz-avatarby Socrates 194304 Jan 2014

These Sacred Bush lands.

I walk these sacred bush lands
Beneath that warming sun
As thoughts be coming at me
I hear them, every one.
I watch three crested pigeons
They fly with whistling wings
As they take flight through the blessed fear
That my presence to them brings.

An emerald parrot watches me
As I go passing by
I melt within the depth of me
This hazy thing called I.
I’m walking, always walking
That’s how I gain some peace
It be the gift God gave to me
To sooth away the beast.

The morning be so silent
So silent and so still
Sometimes I think these bush lands
Be the only thing that’s real.
It’s five o clock in the morning
When most be sleeping deep
But I walk in these bush lands
And my lone vigil keep.

It’s here that my creator
Reveals himself to me
As he breathes into this beauty
With his breath of mystery.
This be where I find him
I don’t need me no church
Or a man who says he knows it all
This be where my God lurks.