Vangogh’s woe

I thought once,
to dance in a field
of Sunflowers with someone
meant that we owned
that painting forever.
But we do not.
The scene painted us,
as it paints all of the others
who dance at sunset,
holding them captive by her brilliant brush strokes.
They are acrylic trespassers into the
lines of gold in
our holy experience.
All things that we have lived,
were only borrowed paintings.
We do not create love after all.
Love always creates us
and puts us on display in her
proudest and most humble
masterpieces.

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