My feet are rooted to this spot. I have stars in my eyes and my soul knows that I am in the presence of prodigious art. His paintbrush touched the canvas that my eyes cannot seem to leave. I go close to see the layers of paint, and a security guard approaches me with caution. As I stand in the presence of brilliance, my cheeks are wet with tears of awe. Some of the tears spring from profound sadness that he did not know how much he would be beloved. Now. My heart speaks silent gratitude to painting after painting. I hope he’s listening now.
insanity
was the world not loving you
then
