Art was a discovery in process.
It had started some years back, but now felt stifled amidst the ensuing chaos.
It wanted to find it's outlet but was unable to.
It knew it's master was trying to keep afloat,
Trying to calm the inner motions of the soul's torment that was coursing through the veins,
Threatening to overpower the process of discovery.
Art feared for itself and it's master,
The fear of remaining untapped, undiscovered.
The glimmer of hope that it had seen a year back was now threatened.
Yes, it had lied dormant for years but finally through its masters efforts, saw new shoots sprouting.
And with that came hope.
But then the unexpected happened and it felt unsure whether it would survive or not, forget blooming.
Art wants to survive. It wants to see itself bloom to its fullest.
It hopes that it's master is able to survive through all this and resume nurturing and fostering it.
Else, it would not result in one death but two.
And that would be a terrible loss.