"One candle you light, you light the world."
Dr Abe V Rotor.
Former Faculty Curator
Murals, Ruins of Colonialism 8 ft x 8 ft by AVR; wall mural, Arrival of First St Paul
of Chartres (SPC) Mission to the Philippines in Dumaguete. Painted by
Dr AVRotor and children - Marlo, Anna, and Leo
Goodbye, Saint Paul Museum, Goodbye
Faithful you've been for fifteen years to guests and spirits,
the dead in their memory and honor, in their resting place;
their sanctuary to mingle with the living and community,
reliving events of history, art, culture - pride of our race.
Good bye, Saint Paul museum, you have done your part,
For I shall walk to where the sun sets, to a common end,
Farewell to the beauty, ephemeral to a hard and cold heart
where art is a passing glance and light fading at the bend.
How little can we bid our patrons and friends with gratitude,
young and old, their gentle ways, whispers, and wide eyes,
the place sacred, sanctuary of tradition, keyhole of history,
telling to the world nowhere else exists beyond any price?
I miss the grass owl, the lemur, the violins, the murals exiled,
the scriptures I saved from fire, trophies I picked from the bin;
broken jars I mended, shells and wares I cleaned into artefacts,
dioramas by small hands I guided, each depicting a scene.
Where is Michelangelo now, Rembrandt, stories in the bible?
paintings and writings made by the young in joy and pain?
amateurs - I never called those less in the art but full in heart,
I must bid them too, wishing their work shall not die in vain.
Under your roof I found stories to write, poems to compose,
canvas to paint, guiding hands I lent to the young and old;
under the eyes of my greatest apostle – these I’m blessed,
opening the gate of wisdom and humbling me from bold.~
Parting isn't easy but time heals. But alas! I found my saint
in the dark, on bare wall, where day and night are unkind,
deep moan and sigh I hear, I can shed but a drop of tear;
what mystery should history repeat itself with time in bind?
Let me cloak you as I did when I painted you years ago,
return the glow in your eyes, freshen the red in your breast;
together with murals of your kind – in your travel and trial,
as my strength drains with the sunset, before my final rest.
Goodbye St Paul; one candle you light, you light the world,
where air is thin, footsteps heavy, ignorance and silence one;
where for a decade and half, you and I together stood
in a museum we built, and I your humble disciple and son. ~
the dead in their memory and honor, in their resting place;
their sanctuary to mingle with the living and community,
reliving events of history, art, culture - pride of our race.
Good bye, Saint Paul museum, you have done your part,
For I shall walk to where the sun sets, to a common end,
Farewell to the beauty, ephemeral to a hard and cold heart
where art is a passing glance and light fading at the bend.
How little can we bid our patrons and friends with gratitude,
young and old, their gentle ways, whispers, and wide eyes,
the place sacred, sanctuary of tradition, keyhole of history,
telling to the world nowhere else exists beyond any price?
I miss the grass owl, the lemur, the violins, the murals exiled,
the scriptures I saved from fire, trophies I picked from the bin;
broken jars I mended, shells and wares I cleaned into artefacts,
dioramas by small hands I guided, each depicting a scene.
Where is Michelangelo now, Rembrandt, stories in the bible?
paintings and writings made by the young in joy and pain?
amateurs - I never called those less in the art but full in heart,
I must bid them too, wishing their work shall not die in vain.
Under your roof I found stories to write, poems to compose,
canvas to paint, guiding hands I lent to the young and old;
under the eyes of my greatest apostle – these I’m blessed,
opening the gate of wisdom and humbling me from bold.~
Parting isn't easy but time heals. But alas! I found my saint
in the dark, on bare wall, where day and night are unkind,
deep moan and sigh I hear, I can shed but a drop of tear;
what mystery should history repeat itself with time in bind?
Let me cloak you as I did when I painted you years ago,
return the glow in your eyes, freshen the red in your breast;
together with murals of your kind – in your travel and trial,
as my strength drains with the sunset, before my final rest.
Goodbye St Paul; one candle you light, you light the world,
where air is thin, footsteps heavy, ignorance and silence one;
where for a decade and half, you and I together stood
in a museum we built, and I your humble disciple and son. ~
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