“In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.” ~ Carl Jung
Photographs I made in 2003, using the Ansel Adams grayscale.
Sample pic. Hit text NaRa’s Klexy Colors to be sent to link for more. ☝️
When I’m not writing poems, I’m busy with my other artistic endeavors.
Happy to share. 🙂
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
The burning beacon of our blue mother star.
Her secret mantra like smoke rises in our wounded hearts; to cleanse all contempt and fears away.
She pulls us out of the deep sea’s sorrow and brings us back to shore.
She is the brazen warrior of radical acceptance towards transformative joyous love.
Her blue- violet blaze, is our guide and protector, for our spiritual arrival home.
These are photos of the progess and the finished shrine. This art piece was a real joy to make, and I’m inspired to do a Tara series now. It keeps me connected to what I would want to be one day. For we all can be like Tara/Bodhisattvas if our hearts are open to first self-compassion and then compassion for others that seek the path of self-surrender. Being comfortable in falling apart, to be held, and mended back into something beautiful.
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