Journey

By long journeying have I come
to this sacred site of the spirit
where the waters of vision ever well.
Across the drought-baked plains,
across the heat-glaring gibbers,
up the lonely gullies of the mind,
and across its thrusting ranges,
have I travelled, weary and thirsting.
Through alien mists have I fought;
alien emblems was I long
flinging from me.
Slowly have I come to this vision
that shall inspire me always,
Weary from the oppression
of heritages not of my spirit,
and of alien cultures
that weighted heavily on me,
I travelled long,
fighting towards I knew not
what vision of the spirit.
Only after long wanderings
did I lose my alien burdens;
not easily, but after long struggling,
did I find my feet taking
dream-time paths that led
to this sacred place,
to this sanctuary
of the idea
where National vision
ever dwells:
in the vast Alcheringa
of the resurgent
National Consciousness.