From a Field of Poppies
Madness in 50 words
He took off his hat and lay on the damp earth.
Surrounded by poppies, he slept,
and dreamed of haystacks and crows;
gnarled, twisted roots and despair.
When he awoke, a rage of stars blazed across the sky
and carried off his sanity.
It was more than he could bear.
“I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.”
Vincent van Gogh died in 1890 at the age of 37, from a self-inflicted gunshot to the chest. These are some of his final paintings.
Sometimes a piece of music reaches deep inside my head and captures a secret place of sadness that I didn’t even know I carried.
Though I often can’t put a name to it, the song reveals something hidden in me. I would imagine I am not alone in this.
Vincent is one of those songs, possibly one of the most tender and touching songs ever written.
*Click three times
*Coincidentally, included a different presentation of this song in a post on September 22! Have a look - HERE . Something unusual is in the air.
Leaves me meddling in my mind of attributes of being. Existence of creation and then being dissolves in darkness a different creation takes light to a new height of consciousness. Paintings exquisite , expressed with words from a field of dreams.
“Though I often can’t put a name to it, the song reveals something hidden in me. I would imagine I am not alone in this.” You are not … 🙌 thank you for making me see Van Gogh once again.