It lives

'Mid the backlit yellow of the

Young gum shoots, the sharp

Scent of the peppermind, young

Calls of the magpie, clouds

Stacked in the setting sky,

I know.

I know I need none other than

Myself. The man imperfect,

Impactions, dubious and true.

Conflicted. Struggling to become

With blackened eye and line worn

Face, I am.

I am not broken, not damaged,

Neither whelped nor flayed apart.

I am a man who traded himself

Away, and yet found again that

Gold within, that sun wrought vision

Lit up.

Lit up I shall remain, to myself true,

Need nobody and no thing to bring myself

Peace. It is here, all here

And for the longest time, submerged,

Suffocated, starved for every breath, and yet

It lives.