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Son of Thomas(A Church in Hollingbourne)by Nicholas John Streetthe afternoon sun streams through a high window forming a tunnel of light in the darkened space. these few empty wooden pews, an epitaph deeply inscribed on a patch of grey stone floor are a small bright island in shady abyssal waters lit into strangely solid existence. edges of forms are picked from amongst shadows and carved into clarity by swords of light. all this before me stilled into greater reality by a profound silence, within and without which permits only seeing. here and now, in certain nakedness before my eyes and behind my eyes is that which is. |
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