The beats echo…

resound on the walls of my innermost cave.

The patterned sounds come and go,

come and go,

and set free my hidden-most slave.

The pulsating radiance of wind, string, mallet, skin,

urgently repeats the message from within;

from within the hearts of creator, and Creator;

reincarnating the most private will of the initiator.

A force majeure – building up; internal…

A raging vigour, infernal


threatens to spread to the forest of greens in my mind;

the forest of greens – not yet seen; aligned

to the city planner’s ideological map of perfection.

My mind is not open to your inception.



© Annalinde Louw 2012

Photo credit:

Lost in Music Version II


via Photopin

This piece was written on 25 October 2012