“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
-Vincent Van Gogh
A belt of three stars lays
mapping the heavens that play,
and dots the sky like darts, astray;
stuck on that familiar carapace
of obsidian persuasions. Worshiped
by red bricks and stone shingles–
oh that starry, starry night is
the muse of my affections.
I’ll drown in dreams someday,
under its beauty, by the bay
and, with the friendly irises,
I’ll rest with a blanket of clay
blessed by the tears they’ll cry
everyday and every night,
up on that barren hill–
close to their embracing heights.
In bliss like the swaying cypress
trees, for they will welcome me,
and I will sit among them
upon the grand, celestial sea.
And
the swirls of light will
surely kill the things that
fright even after death, for
I’ll swing the herculean might–
when I die under the starry, starry night.
artwork: The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh (1889)
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