"...look out on a summer's day..."





The night had long since settled. The sound of hoof steps against the earthen shore did nothing to disturb the gentle, churning rhythm that came from the river.





Breathing in the quiet night air, the blue pony looked up to the sky, gazing over the top of her yellow shades. The stars hung like burning lamps, suspended forever like paintings hung on a gallery wall of deep, soulful blue.





Stainless Key sighed. The Starry, Starry Night's beauty always came with its melancholy. For the gazers watching afar on rooftops, or the child caught in awe through her bedroom window, the overhead glimmer was a sight so moving, so rare that there were no words to describe it.





For those who knew — those who knew what he tried to say — they appreciated the night for a much different reason.





"It is beautiful," Stainless whispered to herself, "and we have him to thank. After all . . . he was the first to see it."





Looking down, Stainless' soft expression turned to a sad smile. Her destination was in sight: the shore she visited at least once a year. Today was, indeed, a special occasion.





The water's flow to her right, the star's and sky's community above her, and her eyes that tried hard to remain dry, Stainless Key continued towards the shore where somepony was already waiting, seated on his flank, his face turned and pointed upward.





Now only a foot away, Stainless stopped and cleared her throat.





The male pony turned. He was a pale yellow earth pony with a short auburn beard and matching mane. A bright straw hat rested atop his head, and his cutie mark was a lush sunflower, so full of life.





The stallion didn't speak a word, but smiled upon seeing the mare's friendly face.





"Happy Birthday, Vincent," Stainless Key greeted.





He nodded his thanks, then patted his hoof to the spot at his side.





Honored and grateful, Stainless walked forward and sat beside him.





He smiled appreciatively, then turned his gaze back to the splendor over the river, his eyes reflecting the stars' brilliance.





Stainless gazed up, once again appreciating the rare sight. The scene stretched as far as the river went, and went farther, she knew, than any river could reach. A sight, a scene, a splendor out of reach for so many, yet was possible for the loving hoof of the artist who sat beside her.





Stainless' gaze turned back to Vincent, whose eyes remained fixated on the beauty as though it would vanish if he looked away.





Stainless' eyes and lips quivered.





In that moment, the enlightenment she received so many years ago dawned on her again.





This moment wouldn't last, she knew. Nothing lasts forever. Beauty has its time, and yet, it, like the stars, will eventually fade, leaving us in the dark, grasping for some new trace of light. The sad part is . . . not everypony can reach it. . . . The world can weigh so heavily on a person's soul. So much, it can suffocate. We are, after all, only small creatures in an infinite universe. And once the beauty's gone, we suffer and struggle just to remain sane, to hope and pray for something as beautiful, knowing all the while that beauty, like life, can be so fragile and fleeting, so out-of-reach, just like the stars. . . .





Yet . . . though far, though invisible, the stars, like beauty, always remain.





Just be patient and look up. The stars will come out again. And if you're somewhere that you can't see their beautiful shine, keep searching. Eventually, you'll find the beauty staring at you again.





Nobody knew this better than Vincent: an artist who lived in the darkness for so long, yet always knew how to see the world and the blessings it offered.





Stainless closed her eyes, her tears falling.





"Thank you," she whispered.





Vincent didn't look back, but smiled his thanks.





And for Stainless Key, that was enough. No words were needed, for she knew what he tried to say.





Perhaps one day, the rest of the world will. This was her hope, and the hope of all those who worshiped the Stary, Stary Night.





And for the one who first shared its splendor, we can never thank him enough.



~~~



Oh, dSana, you have outdone yourself! What a wonderful painting/drawing. What a gift to give in celebration of such a great artist!



First of all, the colors. Oh, the colors! The smooth, lovely blues. The bright, lively yellows. And that sky! LOOK AT IT! How many tints, tones, and shades did you use?! And how wonderful is it that you and Vincent have the same colors that make up the Starry Starry Night. Everything about this piece feels like it belongs.



Next, the lines. Vincent van Gogh's style is known for a distinct use of strokes that shape the scene, which, at the same time, adds a kind of texture that is both visual and physical. The way you drew, to form the surface of the river, the straw in Vincent's hat, the fur on his and your back, and the infinite, spacious sky. I'll say it once more: I think Mr. van Gogh would be proud of this piece.



Finally, I must mention the composition and sense of space. People normally sit relatively close to their computer monitors. So when I first viewed this piece — besides being amazed — I also tried to visualize the background. In contrast to drawings, paintings are often blurry when it comes to detail. Brushes aren't as precise as graphite or pen. But when I stepped back a few feet and looked again, my eyes went wide at how clear everything became. Not only that, but I saw the distance that Vincent and Stainless were from the other shore. It was so realistic!



Thank you so much, dSana. You demonstrated such skill and passion. I'm glad you enjoyed the process and the outcome.



Happy Birthday, Vincent van Gogh. This one's for you.

