Vincent

When I drove to work this morning... I listened to this song. It touches my inner insight - perhaps related to the picture I took yesterday.....

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

The line says :"Look out on a summer's day." .... which is an actual view point, it is strictly from his mind. These are references to other Van Gogh paintings.
Flaming Flowers: The Sunflower Series
Swirling Clouds: Starry Night
Field of Amber Grain: Wheat Field with Crows
Weathered Faces: The Potato Eaters

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

This is Van Gogh's tragic Death - Could not imagine how he cut off his ears - because of schizoprenia..... and he came back to his room... and finnally took his life - Van Gogh attempted suicide by shooting himself in the chest, which ultimately led to his death two days later.Even though he loved painting, his paintings could never love him back.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Van Gogh - Knowing his paintings, drawings and writings - they are everlasting and will never "forget" the style that created them. They are Van Gogh's eyes that watch the world. This is all metaphorically speaking though.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Finally we come to the conclusion of realizing Van Gogh's eternal struggle with insanity.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,How you suffered for your sanity,How you tried to set them free.They would not listen, they're not listening still.Perhaps they never will...