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This, obviously, is The Starry Night by the great Vincent Van Gogh. This picture is taken from Google Images.[/caption]
Sometimes the stars, they look down upon us from their heavens, us who live and die on the grounds.
And, sometimes, one of them gets a little too attracted by the strange brightness, that aura, of some particular human.
It usually ignores that light, but sometimes it decides to head down towards its newly created desire.
And as it comes down, it finds and attaches itself to its muse, as only a true star can, and not without the muse getting connected to it too.
Sometimes such happens when the gods are asleep, and then even the sleeping stars create no scene.
And then, sometimes, the star chooses to stay on the ground, our ground, forever and craves to become part of the humanity, our humanity.
Sometimes it succeeds, to the joy of one and all, but most of the times, it finds that it barely belongs here.
And then even the gods wake up, and make the star, their star, want to come back to its glorious abode, to its home.
And sometimes, this now doomed star does give in, as it begins its flight back to the heavens.
The human ruminates, it now has a little bit of the star in its soul. “Oh! I no longer remain a human, for the star has touched me whole.”
And our star also gets a part of the human in itself, even in its decision to go back to its shelf.
The star rises up and up, in agony and sadness, And in doing so makes the ground feel surprised, “Ah, the human, too, elevates!”
But then, sometimes, the dark gods sneer, ending the mysterious human ascent, “How dare you,” they say, “don’t you know of your inevitable torment!”
And as the star comes back, it is surrounded with infinite anguish. And it hangs calmly, eternally, and slightly lower than its previous home, with an unending craving to perish.
And, sometimes, the human struggles and fights its death, and wins! But even then it stays in solo abeyance above the rest of the humanity amidst the hellish din.
Then the lights wail, for it still is so distant from its beloved star, as the star is from its muse. And then, sometimes, for a change, even the star wonders what humans are! and ends itself consumed by its rues.