on matters of style, swim with the currents.
on matters of principles, stand like the rocks.

fall slid quietly across winter's frozen lake,
amidst the very breath of mid-autumn's very air,

shone the brilliance of the summer t'was not too long ago,
when spring blossomed into the newly formed earth, the

mingling aspects of the theory of constancy and,

the unacceptability of newness,

detachment of unsettling doubts,

and unsettling the attachments,

the way a knot would bind, hold or trap.

just the other day, i swam down the avenue of emotions,

with you by my side.

you by my side.

music and the sea, we're like mozart and the whale,

mozart and the whale,

mozart and the whale.

apple of my eye in a fairly bright green fashion.

(but you're not an apple!)

no, you are but a fruit filled with passion,

in that rather simple a way.

stay this sparkling, stay this green.

dear apple tree,

my dear dear passion fruit tree,

for me.

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 daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colours on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And 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 and violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colours changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artists' loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And 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 inside
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

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in 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
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will...

appreciate yet not seek,

for she'll only wait,

for one who reaches her soul,

however far.

gently, patiently closing eyes,

you'll never find her

unless she shows you how

but you'll never know,

for so deep within the forest, she had sat.

gaze not on beauty too much,
lest it blind thee;
nor too near,
lest it burn thee.
if thou like it, it receives thee;
if thou love it, it disturbs thee, -
if thou hunt after it, it destroys thee.

- francis quarles