I looked down upon the land where storms blew up, swept over and continued moving forward, crossing borders, spreading outwards. The land wept. Europe, Africa, America, China and further afield were ravaged. The world seen, was flat. And I was given a choice.

I couldn’t make the choice. No one country was worth more than the other. Each and everyone - American, Jew, Russian, Australian, all the peoples of the earth were worth the same, each man, each country was precious and the choice could not rest with me, for I knew that the choice rested within each and everyone of us.

I could only watch what was eventuating; look down upon it all and weep for all. Within myself I felt a warmth, a love reach-out. I felt myself embraced and I asked “why”? Surely, what I was seeing could be different, surely what will happen in the future could be stopped? Surely miracles still took place?

And then I stood upon the grave, the grave of the man, Rabin, who was assassinated by one of his own and he stood beside me and he too asked me why? The ground was sodden with his tears that spread outwards, and a voice said, “one man can easily make peace and another can easily destroy, but it was all who had the choice, because all are involved”.

And he screamed and his scream re-echoed and re-echoed across the land and I walked away and he called me back but I said “no, walk with me” and we walked together. He cried for his people, for their lack of understanding. We came upon two children, one Jew and one Arab. Each was dying and he could only save one. He went to the Jewish child and he held his hand against the pouring blood and then he turned to the Arab child and he told me that he had no choice that only one could survive and what choice did he really have? And I turned from him and walked away over the ravaged land and I heard his sobbing. Again he was with me and he told me that both children had died and although he helped the Jewish child both had died.

He asked why God had deserted him and his people and I turned towards him and felt great pity. “Why do we suffer?” he asked. “Why us?” and I showed him the suffering of all, not only that of his people. “God has not deserted you, you have deserted God” but these words were not my own. He looked at me and asked, “What do you know, you are not one of us?” I stood with him and said “No, I am a part of all, like you, like this earth”. He gave me his hand and I looked upon his eyes and saw his pain and the pain of his people and their suffering and I felt great pity for I knew that one could not survive without the other and then he faded from me and I walked alone.

I saw myself, old, placing a stone upon his grave alone yet surrounded by Jew and Arab alike and I walked through their land and across all the lands that make this Earth and others joined me. For some I cried, for others I groaned in great pain as I watched and saw their learning and then I reached the shores of my homeland and ghostly figures were upon the shoreline and I walked through them until I saw my son.

He smiled at me as I him and he said, “We did it Mum” and I wept for my son and all those who stood around me. He walked with me awhile and he said, “It was never worth it, Mum, war is death” and then he said, “we did what had to be done, we gave what had to be given and we have learned what had to be learnt” and he faded from me.

Again I walked alone and stood upon the hill where the blood flowed so fiercely and so strongly. The blood given, the blood that my son told me was necessary and a young Aborigine stood beside me. I felt the beat of the land, his land, my land, and I then knew and understood that he was of the oldest race of earth, but we did not yet know it. He told me the stories of his people and all the peoples of the earth as we sat and watched the land pull itself back together and the darkness came and still we sat and as the sun rose, its beams spread from this land across to other lands. Across the ravaged earth to light the darkness and he smiled at me and we walked together and we came to a place and I asked if this was where I laid and he said no, you will not be buried and I didn’t understand ...

Israel floundering in a sea of blood and fire. The dead and the despairing. No end in sight. Filled with hate and bloody haze. Tangled emotions, the fatal hour inexorably creeps closer. The gates of paradise are shut. How I listen with ironic detachment to the platitudes of the Arabs and Israelis. The new millennium sullied by the ever- increasing bloody lake – I know that the Israelis will go their own way – they will go beyond recall. Yet another part in the ever-shifting dreams of mankind’s agony that has become woven into a preordained trend of events.

Rivers of blood, black and turgid sliding by in time wherein beneath lies the world’s injustice and cruelty of men. Wandering in the colossal edifice of time, within dark corridors what do I see other than it is all founded upon the fallacy of men. Man could never be just. Whatever happens, we will witness again man’s superb and pathetic aberrations, the good and bad that rests within us all. Strange the dreams I have been having. The pictures I have been seeing. In the dead of night I asked a question and the magpie corralled an answer that leaves me disquieted. All that is seen, all that is known is nothing in the eons of time. A time when this earth will become less populated, a time when man will walk alone – the houses bare of people, the cities empty and degenerating. Those that remain unobscured by the thickening golden mist through a leap into space and time. So close, yet so far. The star wars technology – what fools men be – war in all its naked horror – the crime of man against man. Nothing left but the few to grow and spread.

How can one not believe in God. He is there. He exists and can be seen and known within us all. I do not understand Him. I weep with him. He hears my voice as I hear his but where will it lead? The dreams. My words are not enough to lead me through my despair to the spring of hope as has been foretold. My sons, my sons I cry for you as I cry for your sons and for my Grandson’s son. Listen to me, nothing but ourselves can hold back the tide of horror – everything lies within ourselves – our choice – which road to take … the forks have appeared – the signs have appeared – we live them today and we move forever closer towards death, destruction and conflict – the bloody road where only a few will survive – the other road remains hazy, a white mist encroaches hiding the eternal spring of hope …

Something stirred in the back of my mind yesterday. Far off and faint like the first thump of a helicopter’s coming. It’s coming slowly, coming nearer, louder, sharper. Small desperate cries faint beneath the thumping. My mind tells me, grasp on to it. See, listen; while the other part of my mind tells me to turn away and not to see. To flee the picture which forces its way into my mind. What was it I saw – the Dome of the Rock, the Western Wall, the hills surrounding the city – a memorial garden? The warmth, the laughter, the heat – people, loud voices. Turning inwards - their cries. Such pain, such appalling pain, a vast sea of faces - a swarm gathering – there is no escaping their fate. Silence in a desolation in so vast a barren landscape . Even the innocent will die. Each footstep I took was upon parched white bones. Is this the agonising path they must tread? How quickly the dead become just bones. There was no pity within me - only desolation and tears. My soul cried out – “do not do this” yet my words remained unheard as they echoed and echoed around me. Even now I ask myself “Why”? “Why”? “Why”? … and then it faded within seconds into the dark cloying mist of memory …only the memory of it is left - - replaying again and again, like a clop from a film I’d never wanted to see.

The images remain vivid and warm in my mind. I’ve stopped briefly in my work and thought about the vision which is now blurred and softened. I find myself lost in thought at the most odd times during the day. There are notes I want to make and reminders to jot down. I’ve written down most of what occurred, described it as best I can, yet ...

The words familiar in away carried a sadness and a longing broken by long sighing phrases and by catched sobs and seemed to speak of the saddest things in life, want and fear, death and love, early death and painful partings. I knew what the words were, although I didn’t understand fully - the words were part of the rhythm of life itself - even now their sad and lonely tune remains with me.

I’ve tried to make sense of the things I’ve seen - the cup given to me which I held warmly in my hands not knowing nor understanding, confused. Staring into its depths, seeing nothing, understanding little of the words by which I was surrounded. The sip, a warm salty taste. I felt a burning warmth, rising, pulsing within my body and my body filled with heat. Held for a moment it flowed strongly within. A mingling - the blood ran out of me, dripped from me, to puddle beneath my feet and then to seep outwards, inching endlessly across the land. I was no less frightened, yet it my fear I was filled with a great love - the love cast out my fear. I stood watching the scene before me, yet I knew I was not dying. I felt a presence beside me but I could not see nor do I know who it was. It was not threatening. Yet in some way I felt that whoever stood beside me, also had the slow, strong sweep of blood in his veins and that in some way the blood flows in all our veins and has flowed there all our lives.

It doesn’t make sense. What did I see. Nothing just the cup - a dark (stone?) goblet - which I cupped in my hands. The land beneath my feet was dry, not dusty- just an expanse - the voices spoke in a language that I did not understand yet I seemingly understood their rhythm and meaning.

Another vision - concerning Israel - how can I describe what was portrayed to me? A lone man standing where the table use to be, the wall destroyed, sand. There was nothing left but this one man. His face was hidden from me. On his back he carried a great burden (or was it a shadow of some burden?). A great eagle appeared that seemed to be a part of the man (or was the man a part of the eagle?) A golden bird, beautiful - huge - wings outstretched - soaring - it disappeared. I called out to it, don’t leave me here - take me with you - it didn’t hear my voice - my voice was a mere whisper, an echoing whisper in the land - like the wind through sand. I wanted to climb onto its back, to fly with it, to feel the freedom it offered, to soar high and feel the wind in my face and be surrounded by the warmth of its great feathers but it wasn’t aware of my existence. A great feeling of sadness swept over me as I turned to look at the burning, blistering desolate land - I knew I would have to cross it - that there would be no sanctuary from the pain that it offered. Each step was an agony - each tear drop offered was the blood of those who had died, even the tree of life had withered and the golden cup laid battered and empty as I was empty. I gathered up the withered roots and the battered cup and as I walked these things became a part of me. And what of the end? There was no end - no end to the pain and the suffering and the agony ... only emptiness ...

There is want in the world and I know little of it. There is too much darkness and death, disease and war and evil. Yes, very much evil. There is fear and danger all around us yet I am blessed with peace and plenty. This is a peaceful haven and I know if for what it is. Events of the wider world remain remote and the troubles that abound seemingly a distant soft murmur that impinge on consciousness. I turn my eyes to the flickering television screen and I watch knowing so well the storm that yet lies ahead. I sense upheaval, a disturbance in the air. Terrible events continue to proceed along their ordained course. I feel the rolling, churning, chaos forever moving forward. Pictures spin through my mind, impossible to comprehend in their frenzied snatches. My own beliefs are as old as fear itself and my beliefs are not easily altered, nor easily abandoned. The central fact of the pictures is extraordinary but I have come to accept the extraordinary with the same facile assent of the dreary commonplace.

The words I write from the images seen of what is and what may be are scattered with their glories and of the terror of mankind. Who among us is mighty enough to forestall such destruction in the coming century? The world will continue turning and the affairs of men continue apace, there will be more violence, armies in movement, people once again moving across borders. If man knew what looms before him would he change? No, I doubt it – man will learn in the most painful of ways – for our future is a blessing and a curse. Our lives will be changed and events will gallop forever onwards and a great many changes will come to pass. Perhaps it is better than mankind does not know what lies ahead for when they fully know the truth man will carry it for a long, long time. But I know as I have always known. We imagine we see the world as it is. What we see is the world we imagine. We do not see the world as it is and men as they truly are.

Australia sits like a rock in the sea, the terrors will wash these shores but will recede and the rock will remain unchanged. I know that wisdom will be given when wisdom is required, courage when courage is required, and life when life is required. All things will be given. Never will our sons fight better or with more courage. It is they and their blood that will make this land secure again. I am not bereft of hope. Hope is there is my heart.

America like Europe remains deeply shadowed and dark, twisted and burnt, surrounded by swirling forces that cannot be contained. Europe will continue to lie within a welter of confusion. There are those will vie for position and power and who will be filled with ambition and greed. They will seek to snatch what they can from the times of confusion. Alliances will change with the wind; loyalties will ebb and flow with the tide. The eagle remains wings scorched and screaming – so many dead, dying … they will be pierced with arrows before they draw their own swords. Do they not hear the things internally and externally whispered on the winds of time? Will they continue to remain aloof and unconcerned with squabbles in distant lands because they believe it will not affect them? They cavort in the twilight believing that they are invincible and that the seasons will continue to come and go. Ruin will proceed from this

Only the eternal stars will ever remain, glittering hard and fast in the dark skies. We will learn the truth of all things, to one day explore those distant stars. How I wish I could travel the craft that will ferry mankind into the universes beyond this one. When our sun explodes in a billion years hence wiping this earth from the heavens the distant stars will remain, unchanged, carrying the future seed of man.