Gallery Note It was a design too precise to be innocent, too balanced to be accidental. At the very top, a monarch butterfly—glorious, unblinking—spread its wings in regal stillness, as if presiding over a gathering of secrets. Beneath it, cocoons hung in quiet suspense, flanked by blossoms and curling leaves arranged with unsettling symmetry. They called it Monarchs’ Crown, though no one could say quite which monarch, or what had been crowned. And yet, tucked among the golden flourishes and soft-winged sentinels, there was the unmistakable metamorphosis of spirit—the sense that some- thing had transformed not only in form, but in essence. Near the bottom, the caterpillar lingered—a silent testament that even beginnings wear crowns, though not everyone sees them. Artist Inspiration It hung in hush, with wings outspread,A monarch crowned though nothing said. Its throne—a bloom, its scepter—light,Its court composed of gold and flight. by Paul Reeb Artist
