Opens his cabinet of curiosity,
The scent of the planet wafts into the air.
He places each fragrance in immaculate order and condition.
Such earthen delights, encapsulated, distilled into a jar of souls.
No fingerprint left on the glass.

He takes his next stride over the sandy shores of his home,
The tide ebbs and flows,
Ray of light from above to down below,
Photon mapping the sun,
Diffising light into a lens flare.
Its trajectory directing to his hands,
Wardrobe slides open with the touch of a finger.
A library of monochrome, an archive of black and white, a collection of minimalism, an array of simplicity.
Rustic are the belongings of the terrestrial,
But lavish are the ornaments of the collector.
Embellished walls juxtaposed against endless skies,
Terrariums: isolationist preservation, and Forest: organically flourishing.
Miniscule minutiae, subtlety in nuance, a paranoid finesse.
The speed of the natural world,
to be constantly refined and delved within.
This is his work.