Drive

I don’t want to drive

I want to go slow through the kangaroo grass

I want to feel the sun and reflect its shine in the trees

and the trees will reflect it on to me

I want to be a part of it

I don’t want to hurry

I want to walk in time-worn footsteps in the sand

feel and learn the joy and pain

of an ancient aching country

I don’t want to read about it

I want to lay in archaic places

where oceans used to flow, eucalyptus grows, energy orbs around me

navigating their intertwining paths

I don’t want to feel powerless

to my efforts, the rivers whispers its thanks, but it’s still too late

I have nowhere to be that beacons as strong as the river waves

breaking against the rocks

I don’t want to drive but people want a road

They want to ravage through in oil guzzling destroyers

I just want to flow slow, learning the old trees stories

but the story goes, they cut down the old trees to build a road to drive on