Breakfast, Lunch and Afternoon Tea

There is a place, far form where you are standing.
Where the trees are a burnt sorrel and the sky could crash on us all.
Where the dirt sticks to your lung walls and the ash of a thousand well lived dreams are glued to your hair.

There is a place, far form where you are falling,
where you see not only one hand
but many doing the work that one could do.

This is my land, at the moment its hot,
sometimes its cold, Sometimes it even snows
This is our land,
where the vegetation could kill you on any day of the week.
where the wild life (most definitely the insects too) has your name written down somewhere in a book, the next in line if your not careful.

This is our land,
it does not matter what color your skin is, just as long as you are here,
it should not matter who or how you love, as long as you do.
It does not matter how old or young you are as long as you breathe.
It doesn't matter who or how you pray,
It does not matter what you have for breakfast, lunch or afternoon tea...


I don't care what or how you do it, But I'm praying to the person who first scrapped the bottom of that barrel of beer, thanks darl!!!
Thank fuck for Vegemite or else I might not get through today.