This Place
‘ Mythology is not a lie, it is poetry, it is
metaphorical. It is the penultimate truth -
penultimate because the ultimate cannot
be put into words ‘.
Quote by Joseph Campbell.
……………..
There are no signposts here,
or a ray of light descending
from the heavens to mark this place
much less a fence to restrict
entry to a privileged few.
Just a small patch of grass,
a clump of eucalyptus trees
on slightly elevated ground,
a freshly painted bench seat
on which I can sit
to take in the view. The river
content within its wide banks,
the bay glistening under a bright
morning sun, seagulls on graceful
wings and way off in the distance,
anchored ships dozing
in a drowsy calm.
There are many such places
where you can stop for awhile
and with reverence, close your eyes
and sense the sacred beneath
your feet, feel its ancient breath
rise up out of its sleep and gently
brush your mind.
These are the well holes
of regions modernity has tried to claim,
clear of meaning and put under
the heel of commerce -
territories that were once occupied
by myth, creations fertile womb
out of which we were born
and came into being.
This place still murmurs
that past, the songs of making
still beckon the storyteller,
the artisan and the poet
to give it voice once again,
a home in the rooms
of our humble art
and speak its sacred name.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2024
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