I stood on the precipice and wonderedIf I might,In my own small way,Take flight.I looked at what was beforeMe, thenDown.And now,There is onlyOut –And next,There

Writer – Singer – Musician
I stood on the precipice and wonderedIf I might,In my own small way,Take flight.I looked at what was beforeMe, thenDown.And now,There is onlyOut –And next,There
We shall never pass this way againAnd I feel the lossAs grief. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a project I have
I imagine the most vulnerable part of a birdIs beneath its wing;The one place hidden when perched.When I think of howTheir flight dependsOn its exposure,I
I look at this photograph, and I see joy –That it is possible to raise your armsIn found sunlightAnd feel glad;Despite low tide,And the loss
Which doors that others have passed through have you closed off for yourself?As I ask, I wonder; is this question for me, or you, or
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