Starry Night

Vincent

Starry, starry night.Paint your palette blue and grey,Look out on a summer's day,With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

Starry, starry night.Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze,Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,Weathered faces lined in pain,Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

For they could not love you,But still your love was true.And when no hope was left in sightOn that starry, starry night,You took your life, as lovers often do.But I could have told you, Vincent,This world was never meant for oneAs beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.Portraits hung in empty halls,Frameless head on nameless walls,With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.Like the strangers that you've met,The ragged men in the ragged clothes,The silver thorn of bloody rose,Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they're not listening still.Perhaps they never will...

NB: The picture above was taken off the windsheild of my car on a rainy night. I was just sitting listening to music off the radio and Vincent was playing ... suddenly I look out and all the stars I wanted was right in front of me.

The original picture before zooming in is below