Obstructed is the One who is Awake (Poem)

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  • Sucram Hog's avatar Artist
    Sucram...
  • DDG Model
    Nano Banana 2
  • Mode
    Turbo
  • Access
    Public
  • Created
    8mos ago
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Prompt

In the world of Fragile Vision, every painting begins not with colour, but with a breath, a quiet fragment of poetry. From that breath, pigment drifts outward, carrying emotions too delicate for speech. Full brilliantly coloured red, green, blue, brown. A few young brownish skin tone balinese women drawn in a simple abstract surreal minimal style of artist Cheong Soo Pieng, with their disproportionally large almond shaped eyes closed, seated closely together beneath a dense, stylized canopy of leaves. These figures have unnaturally elongated bodies & limbs, wearing batik patterned traditional Balinese costumes, gently tilted heads, and closed or half-closed eyes, conveying quiet intimacy, contemplation, and emotional closeness. Their facial features are simplified and almond-shaped, with smooth, matte skin tones in warm ochres and muted browns. One woman leans her head softly against the other’s shoulder. They wear traditional patterned sarongs with intricate batik-inspired motifs in earthy reds, greens, and golds. One figure has a white cloth draped loosely over her shoulders, partially revealing her torso, rendered in a dignified, non-sensational manner. Hair is dark, sleek, and simply styled; small red earrings add restrained color accents, in the style of Kusama, against palm leaves & ferns on a white canvas, under shimmering waves of light & shadow, in the art style of Takashi Murakami. The background is richly textured and decorative rather than realistic: a tapestry-like field of repeating leaf patterns in gold, brown, and black fills the upper half, while the ground is composed of dotted, stippled textures in warm earth tones.

More about Obstructed is the One who is Awake (Poem)

Obstructed Is the One Who Is Awake

Obstructed is the one who is awake,
seated among sleepers with folded eyes.
They lean together, perfected in stillness,
while the world moves past without resistance.

The awake alone feels the weight of posture—
how limbs must choose, how balance must be held.
Awareness tightens the spine,
refuses the luxury of surrender.

Around them, patterned garments soften into rhythm,
green, red, earth-tones repeating like a lullaby.
Closed eyes inherit harmony for free;
they do not ask why the forest crowds so closely.

But the one who sees notices the density—
leaves layered upon leaves,
thoughts stacked upon thoughts,
no clear path without disturbance.

To wake is to interrupt the symmetry,
to break the agreement of gentle sleep.
The awake cannot rest her head
without first accounting for consequence.

Consciousness is not a gift of ease, but a burden of precision—clarity slows us, yet it is the only honest way to sit within the world.

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