Petrified in rust from stardust,
I’m intaglioed, out of the cabochon sky
A twofold reflection — faces schilling, through the atomic lattice
In Irish irises, I’m settling anew
Moira’s nightly weaving
Silver threads spinning pass orbiting space debris,
so delicately the bundle on spindle
Measured in spoonfuls of three
Dropped in the cauldron of quintessence
Simmering down to mortal coils
Cut with the mystic’s wand
Swirling web of blood prisms,
Poured into marrow vessels
Weld through the mouth of iron-flint fabric
To emerge the fractal fire pattern
Seam by seam….determining
How sudden is the sever day
How quick is the tangled night
Art: Sól Hrafnsdóttir
There’s something in her eyes
Bilateral memories of
Her intentions are intelligible,
As you’re at the edge, blinded by
Her seductive rapport
To flip suddenly rapturously into the deep
With seahorses …. her fleeting motherhood qualities
An enigma to nature
She’s never the color red coming towards you
Always receding into, fathomless blue
Until you follow, to be,
Pulled down into, what seems to be, mermaid treachery
Don’t battle yourself
Compassion is not deception
Words and Art by: NaRa
Blue calcite the night, soothe over the weary mind.
Sensing the illumination in my center core, like the singularity of the stars in this starry-painted sky.
As the summer days are approaching, will I miss you now?
The landscapes are grids,
borders to protect the invasive neediness.
At the edges of my gallant horses,
Like my own towering crib.
But the clouds have shifted and can carry
my jejune voice afar;
To kiss your waving aura.
My unpitched heart caught in a fable.
Dance around the feather totem.
Climb the crystal bamboo tower;
To turn the night light on.
Since the golden goddess went to shine on infallible faces.
Living in dreamscapes, wondering if you’ll return to me.
Perhaps as a heat death?
Art and Poem: NaRa
She’s getting hit with temporal beats.
The neon spine waves — a felt music.
In the metallic night,
banish the derealization.
After the slit,
under the glitterance of scales.
Pain’s slivered mountain, entirety of fiber landscape.
Turned brazen, open the breastplate,
the golden garden awaits.
Rebirth into blooming blood clots
of affectionate friends.
Pond luck, beauty within the muck.
Her perseverance blind and by perchance?
Reality is dew saturated
in her cut palms of presence.
What happened happiness left?
To stop crawling out of her skin,
and sink back into her pores of molecules.
The bodily hearth.
The fervent of living.
Art and Words: NaRa
She opens that samsara door
Her rain-stars wash out the darkness
She holds those divine violet flames,
to transmute these tired candles
into the sacred reassurance….
We have the way, as Tara, for stars wear no veils…
My drawing of a bodhisattva is a work in progress of a ceramic shrine. She looks like Green Tara with the greenish cast, but in the final painting she will be in her role as Blue Tara. I’m portraying
her in the process of enlightement/transmutation of breaking the samara’s cycle. In this context the nautilus being symbolic of the cycle. Her spiral chambers expansion of rebirths released by the violet flame or dharma completed. The expansion of spiritual energy only remaining. The nautilus for me, also symbolic of Tara as “The Mother of all Buddhas” and “She brings us to the shore.” The oleander around her breast is, “the feminine face of god ” and the blue lotus, of course meaning enlightenment.
I call it: The transmutation of Nara Ana into Blue Tara
More info about Green Tara/Taras and the mantra: https://www.yowangdu.com/tibetan-buddhism/green-tara-mantra.html
soaking the perlite soil—
filling the ancient underworlds veins
of fire, with celadon still life beads
Slick cellophane in Lou’s waters
spanish moss shelters,
weaving a wheel to rise the flames
to rejuvenate the scarlet scarred hearts and sundial those eyes,
that once streaked and
swiveled the stars;
in a half destroyed ocean yard
Art and Poem: NaRa