Starry night


His paintbrush swirls on the paper


Beautiful blue glides on smoothly

But he is still able to emulate texture as detailed as any gravel road or brick house—

the kind of texture that, with just one pass of the attuned eye, can be noted and understood without even the slightest brush,

As deep and dark as the bottom of the sea.


As far as I can see, mountains roll into the bluish horizon 

with the ease and effortlessness of waves curling and crashing onto shore.

Stars as bright as the sun— 

our midnight sun—light the sky.


A quaint town resting easy below the endless black,

only noticeable by the brilliant spotlights shining down, in particular, on the picture of innocence

who lays below the swirling storm

that is the nebula.


Valiantly we try.

We try to stay awake,

yet we always let

our starry night pass us by.