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
This piece was written on 25 October 2012