You see, to me they are the ones silly
who try to live far from it (emotions) & willy-nilly
And i say, aren’t you rather the real deal?
Your dark colourful mirages closer to ideal?
They say it takes a mad heart and a mad mind
They even say these are ones of the rarest kind
Only if they knew your soul and your sadness,
That there was much method in all your madness
Those who falsify to wear reality’s diadem
It is ‘they’ who I pity and condemn
Isn’t it better then, to rage and to feel?
And that it is the greatest ordeal
to be able to peer & live them through
And not instead try to run or eschew
Okay, paint a picture here for me
I am trying hard not to agree
To those who preach emotions as unreal
To those who keep away from the surreal
Paint me a picture of it will you?
Would the world be better in lieu?
Say, how drab it would without your brush
How dry and trite with all the quiet & hush
Would u have seen that starry night?
Or those sunflowers unbecoming of light?
Would they have let you speak out loud
If not for your gashes felt on that canvas shroud?
Had you found a shoulder of care
Would you have painted that picture of despair?
What is love without pain or tears,
Or jealousy, or despair or our deepest fears?
What would it look like with just bright light
If not for the contrasts of your dark blue night?
And that is what you saw Vincent for the first time,
That darkness begets beauty and so I opine,
Give no space to false rationalists’ race
They leave just a boring leery trace
That which lacks all beauty and grace
Cry and feel, and sober up aft if you will
Cringe and despair and laugh with air
Take that brush let it bare
this world with colours give it flare
The darker our canvas the better it is
Feel those emotions, let them notice
That it’s better being dull and dim
Let life overflow our illusory rim (of death)
So Vincent, I love you for all your pain
Coz i remind myself again and again
Had you not reeled with all that emotion
I doubt you’d command such artistic devotion
& would it beget your genius creations!
So I weep in your pain and our peoples vain
I weep on colourless lives, its ghastly terrain
And so do a few who weep with me
Watching your work in awe, in ecstasy
For these tears are the work of your magical strokes
Turning this place live-able, devoid of a hoax.
