On a Starry Night

On a Starry Night

He stood transfixed staring skyward.
A blank canvas awaited him inside,
His emotions flowing through
His tortured mind and could see colors
Invisible to anyone but him.
But it did not matter.
He returned to the easel then
At last prepared to pick up a brush.
As he painted in blues in intricate swirls
Only he could see whirls and circles
Above a darkened landscape.
Generations he would never know
Would stand amazed seeing
In even a limited way both
His genius and his madness.

15 Lines