"from what state of   being


                    do    we



other species



 earth and sea
                     and treat Nature


as a 'collection of resources'

         to be exploited

  for short term benefit?"


                                                                                       -Charles Eisenstein


Where does time escape to

Here we are, in the Bay of Fires.

Even amidst the chill and frosts of Tasmanian winter

I find myself soothed and fed by fire

it warms me right now at the mouth of the cove

It pours through me, into his stream, and his into mine

Our fire can be bright and roaring,

Flickering and dancing and wildly contagious

It can be silent morning coals

breathing slow and burning long

As our bones are waned to rest

Either way, it keeps me warm

Cold nights still crisp in memory

I cherish those too.

Shots fired, the personal clock ticks by

insults pulled from the archive

slapped down with no decency, no why

flouting unspoken agreements

daring heat to rise in fury

the damage hits before the bullet

harried breath, hold tight

what are you going to do?

met with the coolness of grace

balancing the tight rope

exhale fully. release

resist the call of the fire

walk on amidst a blazing inferno

walk on, leave the rest behind

to juicy things for your eyes and ears.
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