Digging with my soul I fell into caves
where we laid down furs on the flickering dirt.
We kept watch as the spirits of the wild gods
beat their timeless greeting to our hearth souls.
Drumming and chanting,
we painted stories of awe and wonder
on the walls in ochre, oxide and spit,
pressing hands of connection deep inside the earth body.
Alive in the pulse of story and teeming life,
Waters seethed and big trees with sleepy roots
held hands in the fertile ground.
A thousand years passed, ten thousand,
then blinded by the enlightenment
and falling into darkness,
The world staggered and reeled.
No voices spoke through us,
Book blind and restless we teeter and panic.
Then something sounds through the alarm
calling us onwards.
Distant drums, drums in the deep.
We are waking in a new light
the ancient wisdom surging upwards,
transfiguring our senses,
and resurrecting our splendour.
Like trench poppies,
beauty is unravelling amid the plunder,
mystery gleaming in the darkness,
and on a field of despair
where our elders lie dying,
we are lifted by hands of kindness
and emblazoned with love.
At the concourse of calamities
where all the paths collide
and culture crumbles,
the end reveals our destiny,
And this is why we are here.