Vincent .

(I'm having a lot of trouble with blogger formatting right now, so I'm sorry if this appears very strangely.)

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.

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.

My grandma and I had the chance to go to the van Gogh museum in Amsterdam. Van Gogh is a person and painter I admire, and it was amazing to stand in front of these paintings and think "ok, this is real; this is what he painted, what he dreamed, what he hoped for other people, what he saw." I so appreciate what he stood for - he wanted to express things, and make everything beautiful, and he was all about people even if he didn't particularly like being around them or have much luck with them. I'm glad I've read about him before because the museum told very little about his story.

The entire time in Holland (and especially on the bike ride, which was at a nature reserve about 30 minutes from Barneveld) everything reminded me of his paintings, and the way he thought about people. I am convinced that Dutch clouds are the most beautiful in the world :) The colours, and contrasting landscapes were so beautiful. Grey, blue, and white sky against fields of purple heather and shades of gold and green. Then there were plains of sand, with bare, stark trees, and empty roots. It was so breathtaking and fresh!

Psalm 19:1

The heaven declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork.

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.

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.

They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

(some photos taken by Kyleigh)