A collection

It is more than just 'real'. It is nothing but what you imagine it to be.
It is your form of motivation; your picture of wanting, on the wall in your living room.
It is your defeat, as you read and wonder whether or not you have thought of it yourself; your reflection mirrors you as you do of them: being yourself, wanting more than what you have.
For whoever you are: this can be part of you, all of you.
It is a part of me.
It's a collection.

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Solitude blisters with triumph as the knights of adolescence beat over the old dwellers of ancient tidings.

Joy to the joyous is only brought with sweet justice, just as sweet justice is what brings us solitude. 

When day turns to night, the beating drums of marching signal the children into gathering. And with the children gathered, only out of the few chosen will be selected to walk freely; to walk across the planes of existence, hand-in-hand, with the thoughts of solitude and joy present within their minds.

A beginning, from an end, to the end.

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