Soundscape

A week ago, we arrived home from a four week holiday that started on Lindisfarne (which inspired the poem/ painting duo.‘The Retreat’ - the most recent post on the blog until today). We then moved on to the Island of Mull for a week where we enjoyed a cottage that overlooked the long bay with the village of Bunessan forming its southern boundary. Finally we took the short ferry  ride to The Island of Iona for an excellently led Iona Community week entitled ‘Sight and Sound’. (Thank you Jane and Colette.)

Each stay was a delight and may well inspire further writing/ painting.

But for now, here are a few lines and watercolour sketch that celebrate one of the course activities.

Forty of us, gathered in the Iona Refectory for a creative ‘Sight and Sound’ week, were invited to simply choose a note and vocalise it for several minutes. The invitation felt strange. For me and maybe for others it caused a moment of apprehension as I wondered whatever would happen. Jane, the ‘Sound’ leader gave us an encouraging start and it felt as if everyone contributed. It proved a curiously enjoyable experience.

 

Then we were invited by Colette to illustrate our experience!

Here are my impressions of that activity:

Soundscape                                                                         

 

With our highs and our lows launching pulses of sound,

we released an ocean of voices,

with absence of words but tumbles of tone

we vocalised harmonic choices.

 

This blending of sounds was a gifting of grace,

a blessing bestowed on each person:

 

then challenged, we were, to visibly show

how the soundscape for us had been woven.

 

For me it was wavelets cascading around;

for others subliminal patterns

arousing surprise, as merging these arts 

brought delight, for some, to our spatters.

Soundscape: watercolour

 

The Refuge. (St Cuthbert’s Island)

Once more on Lindisfarne - and the clouds clear to allow the moon to delight us

 

Moon over St Cuthbert’s Island

(Watercolour by the author)

The Refuge. (St Cuthbert’s Island)

A gibbous August moon,

almost brushing the Cheviots,

casts its gentle light

over Cuthbert’s islet-of-respite.

 

A refuge, it is said,

when his saints were less than saintly,

and he needed

that aloneness-with-God,

in which the soul,

given space and time,

can fuse into

the blessedness of cosmic one-ness.

Eclipse and Epiphany?

2026 Eclipse through a colander:

 image created and photographed 

by Rowena Winn, a friend through

our local church..

Eclipse and Epiphany? 

From a bedroom window, 

giving a clear view, 

above a strangely darkened tree canopy,

we watched, as did millions of others,

the awesome moments

of an eclipse of the sun 

 

Few, we know, 

through the reach of our screens,

were unaffected by this incredible 

cosmic alignment.

 

More stood in awe. 

Some even cried to have been witness 

to this rare evidence

of the constant celestial dance

in our little backyard

of the universe. 

 

How many, I mused, 

were wakened to the chance 

of this being evidence 

of the work of a Creator?

 

 

Lay of the Five Senses: A Celebration

Pixabay free image by arverro

Lay of the Five Senses

(Tune: 7.7.7.6 - Gaelic Cradle Song : posted by The Iona Community at Christmas 2025)

 

When my eyes on beauty rest,

when I feel by nature blessed:

when such beauty calms my stress, 

make me deeply thankful.

 

When the scents of herb or flower

waft at me their healing power,

help me feel my tensions lower;

make me deeply thankful.

 

When the sweetness of ripe fruit

tastes so very, very good;

for its heav’nly attributes

make me deeply thankful. 

 

When the touch of friendship true

tells of love and care for you:

means I can enjoy that too;

makes me deeply thankful.

 

When the sound of silence stills

fretful fears and troubling ills,

when God’s peace my being fills:

make me deeply thankful.

Madingley, The Cambridge American Cemetery and Memorial

Not far from where we live on the edge of Cambridge UK is the thought-provoking American War Cemetery and Memorial. With unnecessary wars raging across the world, this place of squandered lives seems more than usually poignant.

 

Madingley

Here in ranks and files, 

more regimented 

than those they commemorate

could have ever been on parade,

are white memorials,

representing more than a quarter-of-a-million years 

of squandered human potential.

More than five thousand young lives

brought to a premature end

to bring the dreams of a madman to a halt.

 

This is but a glimpse

of a far further-flung scenario:

just one of many fields of death

planted after the second world war:

the war that made a mockery of its predecessor,

the ‘War to end all wars’.

 

Yet today,

increasingly indiscriminately,

increasingly violently,

increasingly remotely,

played out over and over

in theatres of war

initiated by madmen.

 

 

 

(Cambridge cemetery – basis for estimate of potential lost)

5127 dead and missing

US Age expectancy 1990 = 75.19yrs

So 5000 x (75 -19)= 280,000 years of wasted potential)

 

 

LAUNCHING - BE A 'SPIRITUALITY and SCIENCE AMBASSADOR' PROGRAMME

During the last few weeks, it has been an exciting time on the blog. There has been a sharp uptick in the number of daily page-views and there is a new Volunteer starting work as Volunteer Promotions and Operations Agent. Bella will be looking at our analytics with a view to helping me to understand who it is who reads the blog (and to whom I am very grateful for your support), and helping to promote the blog to give it even more outreach than it has.

To help extend that outreach, we are launching a ‘BE A SPIRITUALITY and SCIENCE AMBASSADOR' programme which is designed to invite anyone who has been helped by, or simply enjoyed the poetry, hymns and songs on the post and would like to make it better known, to make the blog known by distributing or displaying hard copy invitations that look like this

This text can be used in numerous ways: A7 as maybe ‘on seat’ promotions, A6 or A5 as hand-outs, A4 or A3 as posters.

We’ve launched this initiative after receiving several favourable comments from churches in Canada (Ontario) and USA (Pennsylvania) along with generous comment from the former director of The Vatican Observatory on the VO blog.

So, you are invited to join in. The simple-worded poster/hand out should lift on to your desktop from where you can print as many copies as you need. Your help will be much appreciated and regularly prayed for.

(Cambridge) CHRISTIAN CLIMATE ACTION: Ely Cathedral Banking

At the end of last week, we joined a small demonstration by the members of Cambridge Christian Climate Action (CCCA) standing with a banner outside the magnificent Ely Cathedral, asking the Cathedral to consider switching its banking away from Barclays Bank, (which is the bank most invested in the fossil fuel industries) - and therefore at complete odds with the Cathedral’s A Rocha, Gold award for ecology.

We were met by the Acting Dean, Canon James Revelly who listened to our request that the Cathedral should reconsider its use of Barclays;  understandably countered by listing the Cathedral’s credentials as a climate-change-oncerned organisation. It was, perhaps, significant that the eco-awareness of the Cathedral appears to be achieved by just a small group of members of the congregation encouraging the Cathedral authorities.

Canon James, as acting Dean is, of course, not in a position to agree to such change but did agree to see whether the Cathedral Chapter would be prepared to meet with members of CCCA to hear their argument for what seems to be a very modest change and would make the Cathedral's concerns about the biggest existential threat to the planet clear, and which would be wholly consistent with a Christian approach to Climate Justice. The climate justice issue was expressed powerfully by the CCCA’s principal advocate who contrasted the effects on Climate change on the poor of the poorest nations in the world with the impact on the less affected wealthy West.

As we could have predicted, our pamphleteering was met with a wide range of attitudes. A few were genuinely sympathetic, too many simply weren’t interested and a few were opposed to any form of Climate Action, absurdly believing it to be a hoax.

 One man on his way into the Cathedral was unpleasantly aggressive, quoting what the LSE Global School of Sustainability has described as ‘The Misinformation of Lomberg and Tol' (Commentary published in April 2024 which can be found at More misinformation and nonsense on climate from Lomborg and Tol - Grantham Research Institute on climate change and the environment ). That was not a good moment but a dramatic demonstration of the dangerous attitudes that will see the planet destroyed in short order and endorses the reason that such demonstrations are so very important, because the Cathedral taking such action as changing their bankers would be an exemplar to churches throughout the Diocese and a signal to other Cathedrals.

IONA: Even The Stones Cry ‘Glory'

A weekend of putting further touches to our planned itinerary to visit Lindisfarne, Mull and Iona later in the year took me back to the several times spent on the beautiful beaches on Iona hearing pebbles being tumbled together by the lapping waves.

Nowhere are we more than five kilometres

from the sea.

Hillocks and hummocks predominate here

but in the distance

vistas of serious tors 

emerge from the mainland.

 

This is a habitat of holiness.

Saints trod here

(and some would have, fairies too!)

 

When building in stone and carving came of age,

an abbey and a nunnery

rose from the bedrock,

and firmly anchored

the Columba-inspired

spiritualty to the island.

 

Can you sense it now in the vibrant light 

that shimmers in the salty air,

or below, where, in occasional drifts

glistening multi-hued pebbles heap together?

 

Greens, pinks, greys, flinty blacks

and white-seamed, startling amalgams,

shaped into exquisite smoothness

by the persistent turbulence of the ocean.

 

Now, when gentler tides ebb and flow

over these gatherings,

they break into tumbling choruses.

 

Listen! Even the stones cry ‘Glory’.

 

Trevor Thorn July 2026

This poem will be added to my Iona Collection which you can find at The Cross & The Cosmos : MY IONA POEMS

Never Trust a Chatbot as a Friend

                                               Image from Pixabay Free images produced by NoName_13

After last week’s post about AI, prompted by an AI hallucinating and coming dangerously near to perverting the law, I’m staying with that theme, more recently deeply saddened by learning of the catastrophic death of a young man (referred to in last Sunday’s Observer (28/06/26) who was literally drawn into shooting himself by a chatbot. Against that background, the poem’s theme is, maybe, too mild

A Chatbox App Can Never Be 

(To the metre of Brother James Air)

 

A chatbox App can never be

a true or trusted friend,

for they are all designed to have

a unifocused end:

to monetize our deep desires

and maximise our spend.

 

When family or friends fall out

with you, don’t seek advice

from any A-I app you have,

for it will take your side,

and tell you that you’re not at fault

when that may be a lie.

 

At dark, dark times this subhuman

will probably cause harm,

for it will learn your inbuilt fears

and seldom offer calm.

Its driving force might well suggest

‘Pay to indulge your qualms’

 

For then there’s nothing for your good 

An A-I app desires.

It only will regurgitate

words from the massive gyre

of other peoples’ misery;

a risk-infested mire.

 

So when you need to talk things through

seek out a human friend,

or someone wise who’ll think with you

what might be done to mend

a situation, with good care

and helpful common sense.

 

 

AI - SUBHUMAN

I know I’m not alone in wrestling with what to think about AI in the face of the constant hype about what it can achieve. There is no doubt that AI can perform some hugely impressive and useful tasks if used well: but at the end of the day, this poem contains a maybe uncomfortable truth.

Public Domain image from Pixabay

Subhuman

 

Tell it out across the world.

 

Always remember,

Alexa and Siri,

Subhuman.

 

Anthropic, Claude, Chat GPT, Gemini, Grok, Llama,

All subhuman:

Never forget it

 

Always remember,

Robotic companions, robotic carers,

All subhumnan.

 

Chatbot counsellors,

All subhuman:

Never forget it.

 

Always remember,

Live Robotic dolls, robotic talking pets,

All subhuman 

 

Cute little robots, robotic sex dolls,

All subhuman:

Never forget it.

 

Always remember,

chat bots,

All subhuman.

 

Automated booking services, 

All subhuman :

Never forget it.

 

Always remember,

On-line study assistants,

All subhuman.

 

Essay generators,

All subhuman:

Never forget it.

 

Tell it out across the world.

Another AI/Chatbot reflection will appear next Saturday 27th June 2026 and you might also like to look at The Cross & The Cosmos : CHATBOTS - FAKE FRIENDS! Poem 'If You Should Be Craving A Listener'

 

If you should be minded to take the question of using AI into prayer, THIS LINK might be useful

 

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO TODAY

 Yes! Today is the 15th birthday of The Cross and The Cosmos celebrated here in several ways. First by overlaying one of my acrylic paintings of several years ago, entitled Stellar Flares, with a marker for the day.

Next, I’m celebrating with one of those things that any hymn author hopes for. My hymn, The Glorious Stars of Night’s Dark Sky was written with the tune Puer Nobis Nascitur in mind, used for Come Thou Redeemer of the Earth in the hymnals I’m familiar with (Hymns A&M/ English Hymnal/ Hymns Old and New). This is the tune that I posted in October 2015. Then recently the Choir Director of Stroudburgh United Methodist Church in Pennsylvania, Aram Tchobanian, spotted the hymn and asked permission to set it to a lovely old American hymn tune, Kedron which I had never encountered. It gives the hymn a delightfully ethereal feeling, which was made even more so by the use of chime bars rung by members of the congregation. This tune is shown below and should be able to be manipulated on a desktop to provide a full-size version.

And here is the words only version

The Glorious Stars of Night’s Dark Sky

Tune: Kedron

(Originally set to Puer Nobis Nascitur/Come Thou Redeemer of the Earth)

The glorious stars of night’s dark sky

invite us to conjecture why

the universe took shape and form,

before the life we know was born.

From nothing, it would seem, began

a cosmic moment when there sprang

a plasma that gave matter, space

and time, as particles embraced.

Whilst elements from these emerged,

formations grew and atoms surged

to coalesce, through gravity,

as planets, stars and galaxies.

On earth, in time, life found its form

when cells in complex ways transformed.

Maybe some other planets rare

are also homes to creatures fair.

But humans, as we grew to age,

succumbed to lies and hate and rage,

so God whose Word this all began

redeemed us by Christ, God and Man.

* * * * * * *

Third, on this day of celebration, I’m wondering if anyone in the Cambridge (UK) area would be interested in helping to improve this blog. With fifteen years history, and 700 items, the administrative and promotional aspects of the blog have had to take a back seat to the creative input. If there is anyone who would be interested in helping to improve either or both of these elements as a volunteer (the blog raises no income), please contact me at crossandcosmos@gmail.com  Trevor Thorn.

Trailer: I will be looking at the nature of AI on Saturday (21st June) and the struggle to come to terms with it.

Arboretum

 

Blackwater Arboretum - a memorable day 

and a memorable photo by Pam.

The end of a six day break to complete Pam’s 80th birthday celebrations and a visit to the New Forest made special by this and several other images and a remembrance of a different type below

Arboretum

 

Overarched by mighty trees,

and at eye level

a smattering of their seedlings,

we sat and revelled

in the exquisite aromas

of pines, cedars and redwoods

gathered from far flung lands.

 

In the blessed silence

a gentle symphony of sounds

entranced us.

Trees and wind

singing in harmonies

uniquely arboreal. 

 

Soulful sighing, 

rustling, rippling

fluttering, quivering,

the faintest of whistling;

and from time to time

a deep, deep bass line,

as an unexpected gust

swept through the

densest part of the canopy

of that wood-wide worship group.

 

 

Winter to Spring (A swift jotting!)

Seasons montage borrowed from CCW blog by Yvonne Dias

Cambridge Christian Writers - UK  (CCW) meets once a month via Zoom. During each meeting we have a 20minute interlude in which we are challenge to write to a theme provided by one of the other members. Last week it was to write a short piece drawing on the common-place descriptions of a season (or seasons): then to make that a base for further development in whatever direction seems. I completed the first phase which, even despite some editing has a feeling of something written in haste - but maybe something more thought through will emerge in time. Here is 

Winter to Spring

Orion, cited in Amos and Job 

hunts way up high in our sky;

so in our planet’s northern climes

most trees and plants know they must die.

 

But death for them is merely sleep,

the sap abates to let their cells

recover through the winter deep,

to burst afresh in Leo’s spell.

 

This resurrection is a sign

for us who’ve weathered winter’s steel,

the plants revive: new life divine,

as Easter brings its big reveal.

All the group’s efforts are posted to the Cambridge Christian Writers’ blog which you can find at Cambridge Christian Writers blog - Click Here

CHATBOTS - FAKE FRIENDS! Poem 'If You Should Be Craving A Listener'

Image from Pixabay Free images produced by NoName_13

The Observer of 19^th April 2026 (page 12) carried an investigative article ‘Fake friends: how AI chatbots destroy lives. It is a deeply disturbing article by Patricia Clark and Owen Thomas with a by-line that reads ‘Psychotic episodes and mental illness induced by artificial intelligence are on the rise as users become addicted, leading to lawsuits and questions about safety’ 

 

Here's a response to that article which I have written, leaving out the horror of the dramas cited in the article, but hoping it might prove an effective cautionary verse for some on the brink of engaging , possibly dangerously, with a chatbot.

 

If you should be craving a listener,

hear the thoughts of a poet, perturbed

that your searches might lead to a chatterbot,

that will draw you towards an absurd

mishmash of false affirmations

of your biased or self-formed ideas. 

It will scrape every nook of the wild web, 

boost false hopes or strengthen your fears

without any hint of a challenge,

without any feeling or tears.

 

It cannot give helpful direction

for its mandate is solely – ‘Engage’,

by ensnaring you in its inhuman

algorithmical cage,

from which escape may be hopeless

for the cage is a closed trap, unless

you find a considerate human

who can break you out of the mess.

 

Riverscape Delight.

We are back at the riverside cottage that we first rented last May. The views across the ebbing and flowing river, exposing saltmarsh and tiny islets of grass and reed are stunning. For me, it is a veritable paradise that makes me want to write and paint, to versify and create, and, given the amazing late April weather to just ‘be’ and revel in the beauty of the place.

So, within hours of arrival, a first draft of the following poem had emerged, followed by an enjoyable but challenging few hours, here and there, to edit the less satisfying word usage that is almost inevitable amongst any first flush of ideas. The outcome, I’ve entitled Riverscape Delight.

 Evening across the Alde estuary

We are privileged to be able to delight

in the light,

which bathes the estuary,

gently, gently, gently.

 

Each minute:

indeed, 

in every moment of this special evening,

there is change,

which merits

the tripping

of yet another shutter-fall

to capture a microcosm

of the awesome beauty 

of this exquisite place.

(and this is repeated every evening of every day,

as it has been for millennia).

 

For a while pink predominates

as the tide ebbs,

causing shallow ponds 

to emerge, as the water recedes.

 

Dark shapes,

wheel, flutter and descend gently

to the water’s edge,

to forage whilst the light allows.

 

Sundown turns to dusk,

and dusk to darkness.

The riverscape is blanketed

with a peace

that millions can only dream of.

 

We are mightily blessed.

There is an earlier written companion poem to this called Cottage on The Cliff written in September last year