Dialectics of Passion
Michelangelo after the completion of The Conversion of Saul, 1545, Vatican Palace
This is for You, G-O-D. This is for you St. Paul. Don't even look at me! Holy are your ways after your errant past. This is for Nature, following the heartbeat of the moth ready to be consumed by the fire. This is for Art, i am nowhere near of being blinded. This is for Religion, i would have died of unworthiness but my sinner's faith kept me alive! This is for my legacy, if only people won't remember my man-cries. This is for the people, the church and the cross i made for myself. This is my conversion.
I am old. If life taught me anything, it is that i choose to be a perfectionist grump. I have mastered the anatomy of the dead and heard the joys and anguishes of the undead, characters biblical, mythological and real blasting my core to capture them. Oh teach me, oh trap me, their voices and stares forging shapes and synapses, my skill be their triumph. Slave to work, slave to art, ceaselessly uncouth for my Muse. Damn the apprentice who miss the crease on Moses' lower left leg! Talk to me Laocoon, you deserve a hammer for hiding your shame! Oh Holofernes, i will make sure i serve your severed head in Eden! The devil watches. He relishes abstemiousness, to suffer for being short of wants and needs, to drink piss-water instead of wine, to sleep on the floor instead of a cot, i suffer more, he conquers more. The angel tugging, the devil pushing, this medieval cleansing. Bridled me this passion, the all-tying rope in my neck, for i work to serve and live to love but always, always, wallow to please myself.
Be it blessing, be it curse, i am ensconced as Sisyphus rolls that rock up, the going, the going, the going, promethean to the x power. The summit i will reach, the laudamus i will hear, the guilt i will quench, and then Gravity, as the devil pulls a fast one, his masterpiece, among spurious devices. Nature's remorseless swing, i am at your mercy!