2.2

I only wish to write well so I never have to march.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2013


The Eternal Imaginarium

Vegetating – away from the anxieties of daylight;
Watching smoke trails disappear into the night.
I was reminded of ‘The Unquiet Grave’ and the saying:
“The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication….”
I smiled.

Absorbing – the crisp Cape Town air,
The harmonious faint sounds from a nearby road
And the merry laughs from the neighbour next door —
So pleasantly disturbing.
I listened.

The little park behind this semi-detached house was dressed in white mist.
The Diep flowed, but remained as quiet as a pond.
No stars were visible in the sky,
Only a white veil to match the dress down below.
I watched…

Blue fighting to penetrate the sky.
God’s brush had sure done wonders of feathering the galactic rainbow’s edges with the white.
Then I thought ‘surely this very perception will fill consciousness
With dull remnants of remembrance,
And now Desire will be born and I shall begin to long for the colours beyond,
Begin to long for her,
And long for others’.
It was at that point I decided to exit the insane asylum of the eternal imaginarium.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2013


Red Horizon

Star clusters light up the mellow dark space,

Furnishing the distant depths with a light red horizon.

The night is haunted by memory flashes of your face;

The one spark and only light I long for —

But our love has been a cold case

Since the thunder came upon,

Turning silence to noise.

So before laying it all to rest

I’ll look again to the red horizon

And watch it absorb all light and sound.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2013


2.1

Where language is concerned, it becomes not only a matter of knowledge, but usage.

 

© Heath Muchena, 2013