Open 11am to 8pm
Royal Festival Hall (Level 5), Southbank Centre, LondonOpen Tuesday - Sunday from 11am to 8pm
Like leaves a storm is furious at,
Men flutter down in fields unfenced;
Yet Truth has a pact with nature that
All Hate is powerless against.
As petals, crumbling to the ground,
Cater to blossoms, mankind knows
The flower of Truth is lost and found
In resurrection of the rose.
The barn owls hoot across the night
as if there were nothing there, no branch where they perch,
no stream fumbling its way across the valley floor.
Their cries try to measure if there's such a thing as distance
and whether they should launch from wherever they are
on whatever it is that flaps and makes them feel buoyant and
may one day be called wings.