Stillness on the move
Sleepwalker drifting
Sinking into a weightless wonder, deep and far away.
A dislocating sense of the never-before.
Straining body and breath at the sea's edge.
[danger unfolding]
Soft limbs, white noise, fleeting watery visions.
Thirsty spring-tide gods and the ever-present whisper of longing.
Exhausted. Spent. Senses adrift.
Playing dead at the sea's edge.
[patient and still]
Inescapably bound by a deep-rooted 'mysterious-thing-in-itself'.
I am a red flag to and with the unseen.
Unravelled. Revealed. Placed and displaced.
A mad dog at the sea's edge.
[courage and subtlety are futile]
Slowly morphing habits.
Teaming multitudes and multiplicity.
Tearful in the passing at the face of the sea’s edge.
[the last hurrah]
Gathered up by the most ancient of chills.
Slipping into the fray.
Exposed. Defenceless. Rasping with resilience.
The only lasting truth is change.
Silver Beds and Marine Sediments
The sublime spectacle of Lincoln Cathedral, rich and vibrant in all matter and force.
In this spot, alongside the 165-million-year-old limestone and the one-thousand-year-old chisel marks of human labour, the sound of resilience is vivid. At just over 20 meters above sea level, the beginnings and endings of our story are rich and loud: the future uncomfortably close.
This dazzling building, an astonishment of human and non-human ideas and processes seems a likely survivor of the next 'imminent' sea and river waters rising. Involuntarily, I wonder how to prepare for the notknown and the accidental futures that go on far beyond a human lifetime.
I wonder too - what lies behind our seemingly insatiable spectatorial drive to be transported beyond the ‘here and now’? My unplanned thoughts, an unconscious beat at the edge of language.
I question whether wonder can be productive.
Lincoln Edge
Emerging from the greyed and corrupted surroundings, a glass-like screen offers a threshold through which a small section of the world is glimpsed.
Doubt and disorientation are amplified by ambient sound and fleeting visions of thirsty spring-tide Norse Gods.
I wonder what lies beyond this unknown.