Milieu Euphony (In Act Series #2)

The Middle

THE MIDDLE

My ears were severed by the forgotten age of euphony and reluctance.

Hindi ko gusto ang tunog ng pagtiktik ng marmol dahil binibingi ako nito sa bawat segundong dumaraan. Bilang isang tao na alam ang landas na tinatahak, nagbingi-bingihan ako sa mga bagay na umiiral dahil imbes na magtiis, mas pinili kong maging bingi.

To be deaf is a choice; to listen is to suffer. 

But my desire to be deaf would always be replaced by my ability to hear.

Kung bibigyan ako ng pagkakataon na tuluyang maging bingi, hindi ako magdadalawang-isip na kuhanin ang pagkakataong 'yon. Dahil sa lahat ng mga oportunidad na mayroon, wala akong ginawa kun'di abutin ang lahat ng disiplinang umiiral at iiral pa lamang.

Wala akong pakialam kung mailalayo ako mula sa tinatahak na landas dahil intensyon ko ang bagay na 'yon—ang patuloy na maglakbay.

Walang problema sa 'kin kung palagi akong nasa gitna, patuloy na tinatahak ang daan patungo sa bagay na walang kasarinlan. Wala ring problema kung hindi ko makakamit ang dulo dahil naglalakbay ako upang lumawak ang pag-intindi, hindi ang manatili.

Ngunit hindi ko alam kung bakit hindi 'yon naiintindihan ng nakararami.

What's wrong with living a life without passion? What's wrong with constantly searching for it? Wouldn't it be better if we were stuck in the middle as we constantly enjoy the path and the consequences before us?

It's no different from the people who lived for it.

Nabubuhay pa rin ako. Nakahihinga pa rin ako. Nakagagalaw pa rin ako. Wala naman akong pinagkaiba mula sa mga taong pinagagalaw ng pagmamahal nila sa isang disiplina.

Rather than be caged in one discipline, I chose to go on.

Not directionless, but in the middle.

Because in the middle—I belong.

And if there were people who believe that having no passion was a directionless path, I'd prove them wrong.

You don't need to be caged to tell that you are where you should be. Sometimes, to be passionless is all about freedom, and freedom is all about exploration.

Hindi ako naliligaw. Naglalakbay ako.

But the man before me kept on trying to prove me wrong.

He had the opportunity to be the hand of the gods, yet he chose to be the god himself. He sculpted the law with his own hands, brought different bearings and punishment which led to his own demise. And at his demise—death by his own hands.

If it was not enough, he was sharper than the wails and the pleas of dying passion and things preceding it. It was a mark that all gold and ivory could be sculpted in a manner of martyrdom and trials.

Because only those who can endure the tribulations are sculpted to be one of the gods.

"You'll get used to it once you stick with it," he convinced me when he saw how displeased I was.

The shrieks of the marble were deafening.

I snickered. "I won't stick with it."

The face that was sculpted by the god himself looked offended.

"Why won't you?"

His words were harsh to the people who were harmless to his discipline, but harsher towards the harmful.

"Because there's no use if you'll be stuck in the middle."

For passionless people like me, there were no rooms to retort, no fields to argue, and no ideas to work on. 

There was no use to dwell in the familiarity if I had plans to leave.

Because I am an art wanderer—and wanderers do not stay, they explore.