Description
When you raid, there must be intent, - (shock).
In the beginning - it's a guess, and then there's a result of intent.
Locked, stocked, maybe mocked?
Challenged is better, a good battle always teaches.
The lessons their memory holds, their reaches.
A memory, a captured moment, is the feeling I desire.
Interest and ties to spirit are my pursuit, the fire.
A spirit in unrest is a beast to behold.
Time, however, will forever unfold.
Do your best, to whether your advances.
Rise or fall, time continues its dances.
I only collect, what I feel really matters.
Your work caught my attention - something spoke in meaningful patterns.
What is in your art that brought me - in all my strife and ire?
You then poke a beast - as if it wouldn't stop, to admire.
I remain not exclusive, myths've no time for that.
We are ornate, exclusive in desire, and easily self-distract.
Artists minds-dangerous as fires.
Truth lies heavy in that.
There's no shame in saying it, in ways others - might admire.
The story is told, you can carry it like fire.
Through pain and progress, or simply inclimate weather.
Of the soul, of the mind, no mind, whatever.
The time it binds, the memory inherent.
Makes it worth the while, the gold - due to merit.
These things we call art, will hopefully age and affect.
Like a fine wine for a mind, seeking hold and uniqueness - effect.
Deep within lines of time, of people, of families, of stories and lore-ing.
It's the wisdom of it all, the collector later bears, that is his true, held glory.
Thanks for the memories so far, hopefully many more are yet to come. Never change for anyone. <3