Sometimes the heart soars, and there is not a bird to rival it.Up, up, up it goesTo nothingnessAnd everything.And isn’t it light of feeling,With no

Musician, Writer and Visual Artist
Sometimes the heart soars, and there is not a bird to rival it.Up, up, up it goesTo nothingnessAnd everything.And isn’t it light of feeling,With no
The insect desiring safetyFinds a rock.And when I lift it,They scatterTo another. Is it that they have seen too much?Or not enough? By Emma Hynes
In the Town of the KnightI walkWithout swordOr ceremonyOr aught for which to fightBut time –My timeAnd worthMy protection. By Emma Hynes This image and
There was a timeWhen, alone with the night sky,You felt the limitlessness of the infinite;The acute silence –The weightlessness –Afforded by space.You faced the moonAnd
There are cars moving on myriad motorways across Europe as I write;I can see them as if from a plane.I imagine the motion, for those
The chimney stackWith clouds for smoke,And sun for fire,Has much to give;Imagine this sceneWithout it. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a