Writings from a liminal space
Sometimes, constellations land into our veins, illuminating their branching networks with ancient starfire. Stop long enough for a ray of golden light to slant through trees and trick you out of your skin. Stay long enough for this love to catch you up. When it finally does, turn your face to beauty and surrender to... Continue Reading →
We are mud and starfire, sewn into clay feet by gossamer threads, bearing the precious weight of our world in the space between each quivering atom. We are abyss and bright bridge, wingèd and rusty feathered, breathtaken, wide-eyed. We are flight falling. Grace plummeting carefree, caught between heartbeats, held up to the light. We have... Continue Reading →
She was born of no man's rib bone but of hip bone of downland hill, curved recumbent beneath a scudding sky
She harboured a dream. Steered it in from the wild winds that whipped up the edges of her soul, threw a line to the seething sea and caught it, this insistent whispering that billowed her sails. She caught it and steered it toward land, to the place where forests fall to shore, and there she... Continue Reading →
I've been hiding. Habitually hiding, for so long that I didn't realise I'd become invisible. Shrinking myself, shifting my shape so I could slot in here, slip by there. Smooth as an adder sliding through long grass. Unseen.
Oh I think Eve knew exactly what she was doing
As morning breaks, and you arrive, a guest, into the new day, offer a gift at her threshold.
We are mud and starfire, sewn into clay feet by gossamer threads, bearing the precious weight of our world in the space between each quivering atom. We are abyss and bright bridge, wingèd and rusty feathered, breathtaken, wide-eyed. We are flight falling. Grace plummeting carefree, caught between heartbeats, held up to the light. We have... Continue Reading →
My bones long for rock, as my blood responds to the whispering sea or the pulsating flow of the river. Deep in my marrow curve my ancestral stories, seeking echo in the ancient rocks that shape my sweet land of hill and mountain. Those ancient bone stories are a sonar homing call which booms way... Continue Reading →
It is not only the double helix spiral of our genes that informs our particular shape, the creation that is you and me. That bright spiral has a dark twin, dwelling in the spaces and the shadows within the serpentine twist. This is the space into which creation flows like a mighty river, stellar tides... Continue Reading →
Today a tumult of autumnal leaves tumbled, hundreds of them lying golden as bright spilt coins on the dark rain-soaked lane as I walk along. Each year, this leaf-tumble day arrives, a day when nature seems to me to decisively shift her mood from summer to autumn, and I wonder at the timing of it.... Continue Reading →
Mark Rosher of Gloucestershire, England
Folk Singer and Songwriter of the Earthy and the Magical; Traditional Original Music.....
and beyond
Palestine, Poetry, Truth-Seeking,
Writings from a liminal space
explorations in creativity
Writings from a liminal space
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