Have you ever had those moments when you have so much to say but you don't know how to say it?
When you don't know if what you say would make a difference or just fall on 'deaf' ears or just be misunderstood?
When you wonder just how true, real and/or honest some people are?
When you wonder is this how this person really thinks/feels and everything else has been a put on for your benefit?
When you wonder why sometimes the world is the way it is and you wonder if things will ever change?
When you realise that this is why it doesn't make sense to reach out to some people, why they don't wish to reach out to you.
When you try not to take it personally, but sometimes you do, even though it's not about you, indirectly?
When you get tired of crap and bullshit and you feel sorry for those who don't know the pain they cause and wonder why the world is the way it is sometimes?
When you wonder where did you go wrong, you missed all the signals, when you wonder, is it really worth it, at all?
When you can't, don't see the good in someone anymore, but you give them the benefit of the doubt because you have to, because somehow there are still good ones out there, regardless?
When the disappointment you feel makes you sad because you wonder if this is how they see you too?
Yes, there are moments like these from time to time. That's when Starry, Starry Nights comes to mind. The only song that makes me sad, and yet I find soothing at the same time. Because the ignorance that I feel sometimes, are in the very words of this song and somehow it heals that rift, that I feel in my soul.
And even though the song is about Van Gogh's life, it is like panacea, which I think Dan McLean was seeking and possibly found in the art and/or life of Van Gogh, in my humble opinion. It definitely adds a sense, a touch of panacea to my spirit.
Don McLean's Lyrics
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.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
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.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
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.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...