Intended
to Be

Your
trouble is,

you’re
lost,

and
you don’t even know it.

You
look around

at
unexpected places

you
find yourself

and
say – to me,

to
yourself –

‘This
is where

I
intended to be.’

I
hear that

and
I know it’s a lie,

a
kindness to yourself,

and
a curse,

Bravado
your false friend

as
you believe,

again,

in
all that you say.

 

Yoga

Map
me a place

of
peace,

a
safe harbour

where
I might rest,

and
lay myself on the beach.

Warm
sand supports me,

breeze
keeps me light,

water
laps

to
steady the mind.

Surrender
costs nothing

words,
squawk from sea gulls

images
slow to mauve

behind
lidded eyes.

I
stretch to spaciousness

let
go all my woes,

and
all that I know,

come
home

to
myself,

not
alone in the cosmos,

but
one.

 

Destination

With
no plans,

you
think yourself

a
drifting free rider.

But
without goal

or
destination,

you
know not when

to
be stirred –

your
passion,

rests,

like
a puddle,

your
desire dissolved

within
it.

You
will never know

the
freedom of the wave,

the
flow and rush that comes

when
you find your path,

and
follow it,

to
success.

 

Jewel

Jewel
of land

and
sun

and
earth,

your
worth,

beyond
measure,

you
perish

in
the gas lands,

razed
as seed

or
bush or tree

by
machines

made
to end

all
days of life,

to
raise profits

from
the dead of aeons,

through
water table

and
fractured earth,

to
burn in plumes

like
doomed stars,

til
darkness falls.

©
Palitja Moore text and image ‘My Garden Jewels’, 2016