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Open Tue 12 – 6pm, Wed – Sun 12 – 8pm
Royal Festival Hall (Level 5), Southbank Centre, LondonOpen Tuesday 12 noon - 6 pm, Wednesday to Sunday 12 noon – 8 pm
I would like to fly away from here, be cured of this pointless disease,
burn under another light, a clear, scorching dawn.
You're right, I must be careful, at those heights I risk my soul.
But the poison of chance fills my veins, the earth crushes me.
Astride this rapture I'll smash every desperation.
I'll embrace the air, rise to safety, towards distant borders.
You'll find me down there, alone, sated by time, by every fancy,
finally ready, lost, tossed in the throat of the waves.
Night, night, night. And the shadows
That wane talk to us. The music rounds
Up, exempt from history. It’s an endless
Canceling out of divinity, ready to speak
Again, saying, I am here. I’d call it endless,
Endless. What is stripped of its mortality
Goes on like a soldier to war. But we can’t
Do that, not really. Instead, we balance
On the head of a pin with the angels. I’ve
Spent hours lettering the borders of this
World. My cohorts, I don’t believe the laments
About leaving our lives, but I do believe it
That there is elegy, as green as grass. Nothing’s
Touching me anymore, and the spring rain Is peace.