• Flux Magazine

"The Starry Night" by William Samuelson

Oh! Tortured van Gogh,

if only you could know

how much I yearn to understand

what you saw that night:

what was so special, so unique?

Or was it? Was this night distinguishable

from the one before and after?


The flourishes

of light traveling like the wind,

the wind communicating your anguish

at the impermanence of beauty.


They say the stars we see

may already be dead;

just remnants of the past,

a window into a world

so fleeting it no longer exists.


The night you saw them

is no more for ever more,

just as tonight is, but

without your brilliance how will,

how can we maintain this feeling,

this appreciation for the sky’s beauty.



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