The power beneath your feet wants to jump, hiss and move around,
on the red vast plains of the floodout on the Rebecca sand.
A whispered connection to a distant place,
where the sister God shares a loaded embrace.
The plants feel it in their thirsty roots
that tickle the snake on his underground cahoots.
This way or that way I'll never know for sure,
for the map of millenniums is held behind a lifetimes door.
The secrets of the mountain and of the valley nooks,
are woven through an ancient cloth of invisible books.
The land rolls beneath the southern stars and day,
while the cross rolls over to mark the changes on the way.
For time to pass and the songs to shine a path,
and people to walk close to the secret mountain pass.
"Words are clumsy pretenders of the images of my mind."
As a practicing artist I have travelled far and wide across Australia, walked on country, camped on country and rolled out my swag. I thank the custodians and I acknowledge the traditional owners of country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, culture and community. I pay my respect to Elders past and present.