The Way Tectonic

Image from the floor of the NSW State Library

The Way Tectonic

(Trish Jean)

The way the past lies
Is caulked seams ribboning
To dress those dreams and
Connect them as if they are
Still tangible
While the edges of the way
Now unfurl with
An unknown ink marking
Destinations not yet
Thought of and perhaps
Not wanted
The usual compass no
Longer a dial worth reading
The terrain has altered
Your hands are strangers to
The way it feels
Your mind elsewhere watching
Your feet tripped by the
Celestial longitude that takes you
From the obvious
Typed into the parchment flesh
The my-centred ecliptic coordinates
Fundamental division
You choose ungrounded
Firefly above the map
Lighting but not really there
You’re no longer a destination
You indelibly marked the map
Becoming the sand about the oases
Flag struck atop the middle mountains
There is no ownership
Only invitation
In the drip drip drip
Of presence
Among the monsters and mermaids
The traveller must find his own guise
And plumb the places
As his adventurous
Self chooses the
Depths and scales the
Land relaid
The map is never the
Whole story nor
The end of the story


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