Spring was scattering her stars,
And one fell in Friedrich’s brow.
He awoke to see two lanterns fly,
Polly and Dolly waved to them goodbye,
As they joined Mr. Gogh’s starry sky.
They were so mesmerizing, ethereal,
Like the Pearl Lady’s eyes.
He remembered her alluring lips,
And the image of Stuck’s Sin enthralled him.
So he followed her dance,
Among the trees of Shishkin’s oak grove,
Through the clouds of Tadema’s roses
To be washed by Hokusai’s waves,
In Vereshchagin’s field of corpses.
She gazed at Friedrich,
And he was amazed from what Eve had seen:
A glimpse of a faraway land,
That Yoshida and Kawase called home.
The Rise and Fall of Mighty Rome,
The subtle mastery of Gérôme.
Kuindzhi’s moon shining on the Dnieper,
The Great Belisarius turned into a leper.
As Fritz stood upon a cliff, above a sea of mist,
Andrychiewicz’s violin was one with the wind,
And Michelangelo was painting the divine hymn.
On the other side, stood Draper’s Gates of Dawn,
He wondered, if behind them the path led to home?
A flying carpet offered to carry him across,
There the Savior was carving his cross.
Schwartz, the Blue Angel stood beside,
To Caspar he showed, the masterpieces of all ages,
That the Garden of Agony held inside.
The divine guardian of Klimt,
Caravaggio’s birth of a new fire,
Leighton’s Icarus about to jump to flight,
Oh those colors in Cabanel’s squire.
“I have guided you and will guide,
Wake up Friedrich, for here comes the tide!”
From my book Morpheus