Behind glass, a black-and-white butterfly drifts over pale blooms, its wings brightened with small flecks of rose. At the heart of the scene rests a sphere of agate; a stone of stability and quiet protection. Its dark surface reflects the world like an unblinking eye. Bones rest in the violet moss, telling of cycles long passed. While soft grasses bend in an unseen wind. This is a garden under watch, where beauty is guarded and the gaze never falters.
Behind glass, a black-and-white butterfly drifts over pale blooms, its wings brightened with small flecks of rose. At the heart of the scene rests a sphere of agate; a stone of stability and quiet protection. Its dark surface reflects the world like an unblinking eye. Bones rest in the violet moss, telling of cycles long passed. While soft grasses bend in an unseen wind. This is a garden under watch, where beauty is guarded and the gaze never falters.
