A Letter To Van Gogh

December 2, 2016

Dear Vincent,
There is a thought that gnaws at my brain – a thought almost insignificant and over emotional. A thought that revolves around your infamous work of art – The Starry Night.

How dare you?

How dare you capture
A life,
A universe,
An image,
That I will never be able to see,
Without your depiction?

‘Almost like an hallucination’, I have thought, so many many times. And now that is what it is.

I remember spotting shooting stars in the dark sky, when I was younger. But damn, not with the fucking glory that you caught them with, on your canvas.

You see, the times have changed. It has become a blood bath for fame, success, money, bigger houses, bigger dreams and what not. The stars are no longer synonymous to constellations but to beauty and glamour and talent. Almost in fury, the stars in the sky react to such an abomination by having disappeared. I hunt every night for the stars you found. They are nowhere to be seen. Only the lonely moon gaze back in dismay. But some days I see a few of them stars wink and take a peek at our world – what a pity sight.

But you know what? I see your stars, man. I see them, not with my eyes. But I still see them. I see them in the cloud of smoke that I inhale and exhale, while I transform into stardust. I see them in the blur of my high, where I seek redemption for my sorrows. I see them in the mist of my eyes that form in an effort to filter out the bullshit in my life.

At least you had the stars to seek consolation in. I too seek my consolation in stars, but with a tinge of illusion and a dash of elixir. It’s magic and it’s a storm. But, it’s truly a pity, that the stars I crave for are the ones that you caught with your art.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *