“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.”
~ T.S. Eliot, from Burnt Norton, Four Quartets
"Whose voice calls me from the furthest reaches of the universe?"
Exploring the vital intersection of healing arts and indigeneity with Egyptian international interdisciplinary sound artist
A poem by Palestinian refugee Nibal Khalid
She, who speaks in climactic seed bursts of inspiration and steady sunrises the color of commitment.
Amid the cacophony of a cicada emergence, Anisa George reflects on her choice to leave the Bahá’í faith and its promise of a new civilization
Plenitude of sound / Infinitude of words / Transform within
But Ukraine is a country of the baroque
No matter how sick I feel, I’m still afire with a need to do something for my living
