Minimalistic Black and White Tree of Life Tattoo Design

Celestial Tree of Life in Starry Night

Artist
Andrei Kou...
DDG Model
DaVinci2
Access
Public
Created
12h ago
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  Celestial Tree of Life in Starry Night
  
  Model: DaVinci2
  
  Size: 1152 X 864 (1.00 MP)
  
  Used settings:
  
  Prompt: Purusha. The cosmogram. We didn't pray to the void in silence. Not a reflection in a locked glass. We went out through the blood veins in breadth, Where the world tree pulsates in the darkness. Its roots are before time and the bottom, The trunk is the axis on which our light is strung. And the branches are the nerves of the stars., Where each galaxy is a plot. And in each one there is flesh, broken into ether.: Tiamat, Purusha, ancient Ymir. It was not the explosion that was the beginning, but the rupture, the dismemberment of the body of those worlds that are wide They gave their own to the experimentum crucis — Under our experiment, where we are a virus, Or a symbiote? Then the cage is the tormentor, Then the lymphocyte is in the supervisor system. Our cosmos is an intercellular darkness, Asteroids are fragments of cartilage. And our thought is that he is looking for his own piece, There is an impulse in the neural network of the same tissues. We are not vagabonds in a dead void. Not the sinful rabble at the old man's throne. We are the enzymes in the divine stomach, Whose duty is it to catalyze longing In question, in flight, in accord, in law, in patch To the wound that is called being. And our pain is not a punishment or a waste., And the metabolic storm is in his gut. Why the suffering? For the whole to breathe. Why the illusion? So that the code is put together in the flesh. Why us? So that the eternal does not sleep. And so that the abyss would have something to whisper back. So accept your status and communion: You are not a grain of sand. You're the living part. The one who seeks in your autocracy Your face, your voice, your "tea" and "nastya". And if the world is cruel, like a predatory temper, — Then it's just a homeostasis dispute, Where every soul is a messenger, nimble, The bearer of the message: "I am alive. And I'm not trash. I am the guardian cage. I am a neuron in the body of God. My choice is poison or grace. And this burden is not an earthly one., — The only thing I can lift." So get up. Breathe. Look. You're part of the pattern In a living carpet of stars, ideas and bodies. And our map, even if it's not coming soon. It will be included in the atlas — it's already the beginning of business.
  
  Using base image: No
  
  Aspect Ratio: landscape
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Prompt: Purusha. The cosmogram. We didn't pray to the void in silence. Not a reflection in a locked glass. We went out through the blood veins in breadth, Where the world tree pulsates in the darkness. Its roots are before time and the bottom, The trunk is the axis on which our light is strung. And the branches are the nerves of the stars., Where each galaxy is a plot. And in each one there is flesh, broken into ether.: Tiamat, Purusha, ancient Ymir. It was not the explosion that was the beginning, but the rupture, the dismemberment of the body of those worlds that are wide They gave their own to the experimentum crucis — Under our experiment, where we are a virus, Or a symbiote? Then the cage is the tormentor, Then the lymphocyte is in the supervisor system. Our cosmos is an intercellular darkness, Asteroids are fragments of cartilage. And our thought is that he is looking for his own piece, There is an impulse in the neural network of the same tissues. We are not vagabonds in a dead void. Not the sinful rabble at the old man's throne. We are the enzymes in the divine stomach, Whose duty is it to catalyze longing In question, in flight, in accord, in law, in patch To the wound that is called being. And our pain is not a punishment or a waste., And the metabolic storm is in his gut. Why the suffering? For the whole to breathe. Why the illusion? So that the code is put together in the flesh. Why us? So that the eternal does not sleep. And so that the abyss would have something to whisper back. So accept your status and communion: You are not a grain of sand. You're the living part. The one who seeks in your autocracy Your face, your voice, your "tea" and "nastya". And if the world is cruel, like a predatory temper, — Then it's just a homeostasis dispute, Where every soul is a messenger, nimble, The bearer of the message: "I am alive. And I'm not trash. I am the guardian cage. I am a neuron in the body of God. My choice is poison or grace. And this burden is not an earthly one., — The only thing I can lift." So get up. Breathe. Look. You're part of the pattern In a living carpet of stars, ideas and bodies. And our map, even if it's not coming soon. It will be included in the atlas — it's already the beginning of business.

Prompt

Purusha. The cosmogram. We didn't pray to the void in silence. Not a reflection in a locked glass. We went out through the blood veins in breadth, Where the world tree pulsates in the darkness. Its roots are before time and the bottom, The trunk is the axis on which our light is strung. And the branches are the nerves of the stars., Where each galaxy is a plot. And in each one there is flesh, broken into ether.: Tiamat, Purusha, ancient Ymir. It was not the explosion that was the beginning, but the rupture, the dismemberment of the body of those worlds that are wide They gave their own to the experimentum crucis — Under our experiment, where we are a virus, Or a symbiote? Then the cage is the tormentor, Then the lymphocyte is in the supervisor system. Our cosmos is an intercellular darkness, Asteroids are fragments of cartilage. And our thought is that he is looking for his own piece, There is an impulse in the neural network of the same tissues. We are not vagabonds in a dead void. Not the sinful rabble at the old man's throne. We are the enzymes in the divine stomach, Whose duty is it to catalyze longing In question, in flight, in accord, in law, in patch To the wound that is called being. And our pain is not a punishment or a waste., And the metabolic storm is in his gut. Why the suffering? For the whole to breathe. Why the illusion? So that the code is put together in the flesh. Why us? So that the eternal does not sleep. And so that the abyss would have something to whisper back. So accept your status and communion: You are not a grain of sand. You're the living part. The one who seeks in your autocracy Your face, your voice, your "tea" and "nastya". And if the world is cruel, like a predatory temper, — Then it's just a homeostasis dispute, Where every soul is a messenger, nimble, The bearer of the message: "I am alive. And I'm not trash. I am the guardian cage. I am a neuron in the body of God. My choice is poison or grace. And this burden is not an earthly one., — The only thing I can lift." So get up. Breathe. Look. You're part of the pattern In a living carpet of stars, ideas and bodies. And our map, even if it's not coming soon. It will be included in the atlas — it's already the beginning of business.

More about Celestial Tree of Life in Starry Night

A stark black and white digital illustration depicting a celestial Tree of Life motif enclosed within a circular, runic calendar-like border, set against a backdrop of a dense starry night sky. The central element is a highly detailed, symmetrical tree with spreading branches reaching upward and an equally extensive root system extending downward. Both the branches and roots are intricately intertwined, forming a complex pattern. Along the trunk of the tree, there are three distinct circular symbols vertically aligned. Above the roots, a line of grass or foliage is subtly indicated within the circle. Within the tree's canopy, and also among the roots, small white stars are scattered. To the right of the tree, a prominent full moon icon is visible. The circular border surrounding the tree features multiple concentric rings filled with various intricate patterns, symbols, and what appear to be ancient runes or astrological glyphs. The outermost ring of this border is particularly ornate, showcasing a series of small, repetitive designs. The entire composition is sharply rendered, emphasizing the contrast between the white elements and the deep black background, which is densely peppered with countless tiny white stars of varying sizes, giving the impression of an expansive universe.