"To suffer without complaining is the only lesson that has to be learned in this life", locked behind bars for being "mentally unstable" a man spoke words which a wise man could never. I know that you never wanted to hurt them, I know you were alone, I knew you felt pain more than them when you wrote," I wont hide from you that I would prefer to die than cause and bear so much trouble". How could you, how could a person who lives in this cruel society could absorb that much pain and still reflect swirling bring night through his teary eyes? At times I sit with my fingers dipped in paint, I touch blue and brush my fingers against the canvas, I feel the depth and calmness and I put my small fingers in white paint and draw small dots which always makes the painting more bright and never gets noticed, but the palette? The palette belongs to the yellow, the same paint you used to eat to colour your inner organs so that you could feel happiness, the same way you let a thieving crow eat your food. The loneliness and sadness is still there Vincent, everytime I wipe my tears I paint yellow on my face,everytime I feel alone I paint yellow on my doors in a hope that someone would come, everytime I write I paint yellow on my wounds, we all have our version of yellow. At present when I look through your eyes, I saw you had a vision of life, "the way to know life is to love many things" but I couldn't help but fall in love with you and your art. How terrible you would've felt when you offered a part of your body and got nothing but agony dripping down your sheets whether in colours or in blood and you knew that you were an artist for future, because "for wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning" right? How to tell you all this? How to make this letter reach you? "I could've told you Vincent this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you", you lived your life in pain and now we could do nothing but admire what a soul you were and that scares me the most, you will never know how much people love you, that you are not alone anymore, that you own a museum now,that people still put flowers on your grave and it scares me how you would never know that your sight of life is a dream for many now. What is so beautiful in death, Vincent? That people start loving the ones who were never noticed? How you said, "a great fire burns withing me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it and passersby only see a wisp of smoke", people are now burning in that fire, this is what death can do and it amazes me how powerful it is and how scared humans are of it. I dont know about others but I can see your journey from pain to paint. I dont know anything with certainty Vincent, but the sight of your starry night always makes me dream. ~rhapsodist
She has spent eternities despising herself Searching in the mirror for the existence Of an ethereal reflection Staring back into her ocean eyes Whispering soft lullabies An abundance of external lies For it could never match The true beauty and radiance That resides inside
The most impeccable love story Is the one she holds with herself Between her days and night For when she comes to realize The resiliency of her bones The captivation of her words The radiance of her dance And the effervescence of her energy She drips in empowerment Like sweet honey Drips from the wildflower
The pyramid of beauty was rising For justice to reach the moon without stairs. The duality of pain exists from you To catch the hollow definition of art But you no longer needed that trend game When you see an aura of unimaginable beauty A friendly face An intoxicating laugh A smile that makes you smile without even Realizing it of your own
You ain't a rose filled with thrones but A wild flower sprouting through The cracks in the sidewalk You could move mountains And uproot trees if you tried.
You know that the blades of time will slice Cleopatra's throat And left her dry, all flesh and bone, Worms eaten up what remained, Her eyes,skin and pain. But space and time fail to confine The inner workings of your extravagant divine And your beautiful existence.
Every person is a limited edition Model on life's shelf. There's much beauty in us beyond measure.
Darlin, This life does not taste alive If you don't accept and love your own Definition of beauty.
Your words were like a beautiful song Yet your silence was like a sacred prayer.
You're a art and a musical note have ever sung You're a sonnet and a radiant soul have ever seen.
When the sun hangs low Still waters reflect mountains Yet you hold a gaze on yourself.
You took care of yourself When times got tough A piece of a home, you made it whole And through this words I will try To paint your heart & soul The impact you made Never replace your beautiful grace For shallow trappings charm.