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
