On the floor of the lounge I play my koauau
while looking out over the hills and the valley
The chords that I play bring dark clouds together
and streaks of blood red fly across the horizon
From the recess of space and of time itself
a figure appears in the dawning red light
A warrior's face moves slowly towards me
with feather and bone adorning his head
My heart becomes stricken and my playing now ceases
as he comes bearing a bowl filled with sweet red potatos
"Make it good" I'm instructed as he hands it to me
punctuated with stares that pierce through my heart
Are these are the kūmara stolen from Whanui
by Rongomaui as a gift for his wife?
A gift from the Gods which was taken from Vega
reigning in a new stage, a new age - a new era?
Several weeks later I'm back in the dream
but this time the kumara sit atop a gold plate
The tiniest of shoots have begun to appear
and fastidiously I remove them with care
From a humble potato can vast change occur
small tiny shoots pushing up through hard ground
It can change the environment, change the landscape
whether physical, political or inside my heart
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