Free Shipping On all Orders over $400 · Zero Tariffs for Most Countries

0

Your Cart is Empty

Dawn had not yet arrived, only suggested itself in the thinning dark.  I stood before the fig and its companion lion—both silent, both cloaked in time.  The air felt weighted, but not heavy.  Held.  Like an unanswered question.

I pressed the shutter.  But long before that, the image had already formed—between breath, between root and carved jaw, between things no longer trying to speak.

 

Roots sip unborn light
Stone exhales forgotten roars
Hush completes the frame


Also in My Journal

Stillness in the Shape of Shelter
Stillness in the Shape of Shelter

1 min read

A rain-streaked Buddha sits beneath the coiled naga Muchilinda, not to resist the world, but to hold stillness within it. This meditation reveals a print shaped by breath, not description.

Read More
The Shelter That Remains
The Shelter That Remains

1 min read

Time gathers around the Buddha as breath, not burden. In this haibun, the artist offers a moment that does not explain itself—it simply remains, unmoving beneath the shelter of silence.

Read More
What Light Remembers
What Light Remembers

1 min read

Light rests on the Buddha’s chest without revealing him. In this moment of reverent waiting, the image forms as presence—not picture. The serpent shelters, the stone remembers, and the poem listens.

Read More