03/14/2026
Olivewood, smoke resin and a floral bouquet in nesting 9 pins end tables. 15" and 12" rounds.
These flowers did not bloom at night,
They met the sun, they knew its light.
Yet still they rest in shadowed hue,
By choice, not lack, by vision too.
Their colors deepen, rich and low,
Not every truth is meant to glow.
Some beauty asks for time and gaze,
Not all is made for hurried days.
We live beneath electric skies,
Where brightness hums and never dies.
Lit screens replace the rising sun,
And still we say we’ve clearly seen.
But seeing isn’t always bright,
And clarity is not just light.
Depth is born where shadows stay,
Where form and feeling gently play.
So here the flowers darker lie,
Not hidden, hushed, or passing by.
They stand as proof that tone and shade
Are choices carefully made.
This table holds what we forget:
That dark is not the absence yet.
It is intention, calm, and rest
Where beauty settles, unconfessed.
Look closer now. Let eyes adjust.
What once seemed lost is earned by trust.
For sometimes what we’re meant to see
Reveals itself more patiently.
