All Art is Garbage. Like this poem

I feel poetical today

Everything is temporary

In subjective words profound, I say,

"All art is garbage," some may dismay.

Yet let us ponder, for truth lies deep,

In the realm of art, secrets to keep.

Art, like life, is transient, it is true,

Ephemeral beauty, a fleeting view.

For time, relentless, it does erode,

The masterpieces once revered, now old.

But in this cycle, a lesson we find,

In art's demise, new creations grind.

From dust and ruins, new visions emerge,

Resilient spirits, their talents surge.

Though art may crumble, its essence remains,

In hearts and minds, its memory sustains.

Through generations, its echoes resound,

In new forms and expressions, daily found.

So let us not curse art's inevitable decay,

For in its passing, new treasures hold sway.

From garbage to gold, the cycle repeats,

Art's ever-changing nature, it treats.

For beauty in art, though transient it may be,

In its passing, the source of creativity we see.

And thus, in history’s wisdom we perceive,

That art, even as garbage, we can believe.

I have faith in art and you?

Stay Mindful

InteGritti