A Rock Rose To The River

 

From the dream, I stood from the height of a balcony, watching the celebration wreathed in warmth; a procession that traced the river like a native rose harbouring all its resources. My position aloft the soft turning of the oak boughs and shimmering reflections of the sinking light flooded me with perspective.

A lost domain to my body that then awoke to the heavy rainfall that answered the valley

 

new futures

break through

like hymns of low sunlight

sinking through the closing

of a forest.

 
Rebecca Rose Harris
 
 

Behind the inscriptions,

The vines cling to the country air,

Beyond the horizon,

Without witness, a birds song.

Behind every interpretation to feather the darkness

Remains always, a portrait, longing

Life On Tour

Traveling the roads of spain over the past week On Tour has been a beautiful exchange of energy. the folding remainS of spring have awoken the Country roads with migrating cotton seeds, Pigmants of Ochre and crimson POPPY-HEADS, DAZZLING the dry heaT. Spain you have Installed us with a breath of life. We cant wait to share our music with you again in the Near future!

Fragments Of A Dream

An abandoned bird lays upon his chest - a painting of oiled shadows and burnished solidarity. The portrait of strength surrenders to a private pain. I pay head to the quiet transformation as it is folded away into the diminishing light.


 

THE SWEET DEW OF HONEYSUCKLE

ESCAPES THROUGH THE PASSAGES OF COURTYARDS

SCALES WITH IVY AND TEMPERED WITH ICE.

BEYOND THE YIELDING DANCES OF BLACKBIRDS

THAT PARADE THE ROUNDED WALLS, WE CAN SEE

THE CHURCH BELLS SWING THROUGH THE OPAQUE STAR

OF PALESTINE-ROSE GLASS.

IRON NOTES LIFT LIKE SCENTS DRAWN OUT FROM THE RAIN ABOVE

THE QUIET TOWN AND TRAVELLING CLOUDS.

 

All Is One

 
 
Rebecca Rose Harris, Rebecca Rose Harris Photography, Landscape, Black and white, Analogue photography, Conceptual Photography
 
 
 

All is one, one breath. With the magnitude of what defies time and place. A relationship unscripted, that moves without separation, just as the dark pine leans into the wind, into the voice of centuries. To hand yourself over to the promise of exchange; the act of giving and receiving; a dialogue that became an equilibrium in a time before beginning and end.