Starry Night

 

“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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