Starry Night

I always find myself

Gazing at the stars

Writing about them

Talking about them

Dreaming about them

And it all comes back

To this painting

A painting conceived

One hundred years before I was

It spoke to me

Before I was old enough

To even know and understand

The words that it spoke

Did I have the same madness

As Van Gogh

To hear the song of the heavens

To see it first in his painting

My ex had a high-powered telescope

I used to borrow it, take it onto the roof

Of my building in New York City

And sit in dark silence

With my friends, the stars

Their voices were more powerful

Than any person I knew

Or have met since

The song of the heavens

Is like every piece of music

You have ever heard

And every single other

That you haven't

It's like a chorus of angels

Or some other such

Befitting description

Of which words cannot describe

When I gaze at the stars

And my imagination takes flight

I wonder if my closeness to them

Isn't because I'm one of them

Cast down from the heavens

Into the murky earth below

Earth-bound and broken

Yet always longing for my family, the stars