Inspired by the absolutely awesome light I saw in this area, during a recent trip to Queenstown, Tasmania. My birthplace and an area still holding that primordial sense of a world being birthed, when you step even just a few metres from the road. So much change over the last thirty years - yet so much not.
The Plain of the Mists
The Plain of the Mists
Purlieu
I
crossed over a place,
as a temporary wayfarer does,
up and over, that world from which I came.
Where forests of childhood memories
as a temporary wayfarer does,
up and over, that world from which I came.
Where forests of childhood memories
are
now mere islets of trees,
and scrub now steppes and plains.
and scrub now steppes and plains.
And those plains, those ancient plains,
as
childhood long left and cold,
Hold a special light.
With clouds limned in radiance.
Enshrouding nearby ranges,
an argent light is reflected...refracted...
draping carelessly,
spreading unearthly rays,
drawing me in
through the darkened glass of time.
Hold a special light.
With clouds limned in radiance.
Enshrouding nearby ranges,
an argent light is reflected...refracted...
draping carelessly,
spreading unearthly rays,
drawing me in
through the darkened glass of time.
Rivers
sing quietly, muted by foliage
While ghosts of the road makers
Whisper
a counterpoint to the
Echoes
of ancient, primeval indiginy.
The
mist, a tangible amnion,
Holding
back the universe,
Keeping
in the dreaming.
A
subtle murmuring of voices long gone
Can
be heard underneath
The
gentle sussuration
Of
barely moving grasses.
Whispers
of the tiger's cough are
Filtered
through fingers of mist,
prying...
flicking
through my primal fears
sighing....
The
muted percussion
of
horses' feet stumbling through
the
tussock grass, its'
buttons
flicking their flanks,
sound
along with
the
scream of the saw
and
the dull thunk of the axe,
as
they fall the ancient giants
feeding the strident devil's maw.
The
screams of a past devoured.
A
long inhale.
Exhale.
Mist
lifts,
burned
off by warming sun
(c)2018
Note: photograph is of the mist covered hills of Queenstown Tasmania.
With thanks to Dr Peter Hay for his advice on certain issues I always seem to have when writing.