If it is real, it never dies.
It may change and alter, just as the leaves turn gold and bronze and fall from their branches when autumn comes, but it will never truly die; not if it is real.
If it is real, it will remain.
It may change from a clear liquid to cloudy water when paint soaked brushes are placed in it, but it will not disappear.
If it is real, it will endure.
It may find itself torn, like the full skirts of a ripped summer dress when the wearer is reckless, but it will not completely break.
If it is real, it never dies.
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