His Starry Night

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His starry night
Floats in the sky
With colors sublime

I wondered when
He became a muse
In my sands of time

Did he hear them
Begging him to stop
Tearing himself apart

Or on happier days
Did he just sigh
At the night full of stars

****

Sometimes lost
In a woeful translation
Of beaming joy

At other times
With a paint that smiles
Like a bemused little boy

But at length
A shadow appears
A challenge to the battle weary

Turning his night
Into a dark abyss
Of colors so starry!

Maybe he lived for those of us
Who wish to live
In a colorful apparition

And not those
Who rant of life
Like an unlikely desperation…

3 thoughts on “His Starry Night

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