Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.
It was a rare summer’s morning — the moon falling, the sun rising, both holding the same height in the sky. I stood between them for a moment longer than I meant to, feeling something shift, something settle. The poem began forming there and then, carried on a bridge of clouds. To complete the moment, I’ve paired it with Lisa O’Neill’s The Globe — a song that feels as earthy and genuine as the morning itself.
Between Here and the Edge
I’m no ancient mariner
with a sextant to chart the sky
The moon was falling into bed,
the sun rising ahead,
both at the same height,
as if I were the hinge between them.
Here I stand on their earthbound bridge
at the centre of my own universe,
unsure of my footing near the edge –
am I fading into the advancing ground,
or drifting back toward an old wedding pledge.
The Globe, Lisa O’Neill, Lyris
[Verse 1]
When I was small
Two feet tall
I thought that the world
Was a map on the wall
And that globe of a ball
We′d spin and explore
But that world showed no door to me
[Verse 2]
I grew more
In feet and in lore
I learned to read ’bout the globe
In through the windows of my eyes
I sang the blues and greens
I touched on things one only sings
When they’ve found the key
And still the world in all my awe
Showed no door to me
[Verse 3]
Not wholly old
I’ve paved some road
I’m taller than I’ll ever be
I’ve learnеd things I cannot sing
I spin relentlessly
I pluggеd out of self in doubt
In soul misplaced the key
And lo and behold
That cruel old globe
Went showed its door to me
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 