Complimentary worldwide shipping on orders over $400 · No import tariffs for most countries

0

Your Cart is Empty

“Light is the brief permission stone gives to time.”

Mist rose without urgency.  I stood at the edge of it, where tree and guardian cohabited the breath between root and roar.  The lion’s flank was veiled in lichen so white it could have been mistaken for moonlight.  Above, the fig’s roots descended with a patience I could not name.

I held still, not in preparation, but in recognition.  These were not statues, not trees.  They were presences.  And I—if I was careful—could dissolve just enough to remain within their exchange, unseen.

The photograph would come.  But first, the silence.

 

The earth prays downward
 in braided syllables of root,
while granite keeps the relic of a roar
 quiet beneath its lichen veil.

Morning inhales—
 shadow drawn up the ribs of stone,
photographer invisible,
 listening for the hush
 that names a threshold sacred.

Nothing moves.
 Yet presence migrates
 from bark to jaw to aperture,
and the negative drinks
 what no tongue could shape.


Also in Library

Where light lingers, time kneels. The world waits to be seen — not taken, but received.
The Weight of Light

3 min read

In the hush before dawn, light gathers until waiting becomes prayer.
Long exposure teaches surrender — to breathe with time, to let the unseen complete the image.
What remains on film is not possession, but trust made visible.

Read More
The Silence Between Temples
The Silence Between Temples

3 min read

Between one breath and the next, the world holds its pulse in silence.
Here, between temples, devotion hums without voice—light becoming memory, memory becoming air.
Step softly into the space where sound has already bowed,
and feel the sacred linger in what remains unspoken.

Read More
Hands of the Sculptor — The Craft as Meditation
Hands of the Sculptor — The Craft as Meditation

1 min read

In the hush of the galleries, the sculptor listens rather than strikes.
Each breath, each measured blow, opens silence a little further.
Unfinished reliefs reveal the moment when mastery becomes meditation—
when patience itself is carved into being,
and the dust that falls at a mason’s feet becomes the residue of prayer.

Read More