Tuesday, February 27, 2007


On Viewing Boticelli’s Venus
Cerulean skies
Hover silently
above your guileless head.
Somehow the sun
gilds your
presence with halos
of luxuriance.
Luminous, radiating
Warmth, Conviviality…
This Virtue,
Would shame,
arouse the blackest Envy,
Surreptitious resentments…
Yet still, you remain
Serene, almost feline
In your statuesque pose,
Unperturbed by
The clamor of the throng.
Mere artifice?
That furtive smile reveals
Neither mockery…nor dispassionate disdain
Rather it is of acceptance
Of your devotees’ reverence.
Their paeans and plaudits
Frenzied prayers and harried hopes
Magnify your innate godhead
While decrying the inconsequence,
the frailty of human existence
before the Divine.
Burden

Here it comes, without any interference
nor obstacle to its arrival in everyone's life.
How heavy is this burden,
which we try to mask with smiles,
or better yet with nods of satisfaction,
dreaming of fulfilment, perhaps something propitious
yet hiding the anguish, the constant feeling of want.

Here we go, rushing incessantly to and fro
from one bustling day to another,
knowingly helpless to ease the burden
of things and people we have lost along the way,
Sins and traumas that harry us with painful jabs,
broken down aspirations,
opportunities passing by.

Here am I, a fractured life,
ruefully smiling at this burden, this deep wound.
Am I left to struggle, alone amidst the maddening crowd?
No respite, indifference on every side.
Comfort must come.
It must come...

Friday, February 23, 2007


This is my very first posting for a blog. I have always written entries for my journals, but the pages end up seriously creased after a few months since I habitually look over and re-read my notes.


I decided to open my blog with a painting of one of my favorite artists, Balthus (Count Balthasar Klossowski de Rola). His works have that quality that inspires silence to viewers like me since I am confronted with an object, a scene rich with symbols and inviting a multitude of interpretations, both secular and esoteric. I feel as if I have this direct conversation with Balthus himself and interact with the subjects within the painting.

What is this mystery that makes me contemplate? Is the cat (in the throes of sexual desire), a direct reflection of the naked girl on the chair? Who is the girl by the window...is she a voyeur? Why does she turn away from viewer?