enchanted village sleep gentle, nestled in 
 a valley of wishes. rest protected by your  
 giant cypress sentinel, caressed by swirls 
 and gyres of azure and white. breathe 
 deep of magic starlight and float beneath 
 a child’s golden moon illuminated by 
 sacred stars, each a tawny crayon sun. 
  
 my jaw drops at the mystery of joy and
 peace which brought you into being, your
 starry birth immaculate, fathered by 
 vincent’s loving brushstrokes, his mania 
 tamed to serve tenderness. through you i  
 enter the soul of the hurting genius whose 
 madness let him see unreal glory. 
  
 serene village, imagined and manifested
 even as your maker anguished in the asylum
 of saint rémy de provence. he saw too much 
 truth to remain sane. but if i could, i would
 regard the world through his eyes! i ache to 
 see the artist’s shapes and shades! to grasp 
 the spirit-ghost of trees, the halos of the stars! 
  
 i would leave our world of brute logic if i 
 could enter vincent’s transcendent vision of 
 sapphire and topaz, safe within a world of sky,  
 crafted by the maker’s suffering -- he who saw 
 so much more than just a star-filled night. 
 if the creator of such beauty was truly mad, 
 why should i choose to suffer pale sanity?