What if the whole world stood still when I play on? Would I be happy, perplexed, or scared?
What if the sound of rescue broke the sound of silence but then subdued by the sound of silence when I play on? Was I playing for anything or anyone?
If the whole world stood still when I play on, I would be happy because the music I play on piano is being listened. But, I would be perplexed because I always wonder if I was really playing music on the piano or I was just randomly hitting the keys on the piano. Actually, I would be scared because I could not know it was me who is playing the piano.
The sound of rescue broke the sound of silence, then returned to the sound of silence when I play on, I was playing for thoughts and for me.
And hopefully I am always playing for anyone who is willing to listen and understands that I mean well to bring good nature in the music I play on the piano.
The waves hammer the concrete wall of the berth with a rhythmic motion pattern which is almost like a programmed pounding machine.
The man who is sitting on top of the concrete berth wall doesn’t notice the pounding right below, the man is watching the sea.
The man who watches the sea believes the troughs and peaks of the waves are people’s ups and downs, their rhythmic patterns of success and failure in life.
The man who watches the sea sees the massive sea with uncountable waves made up by troughs and peaks of water; while each trough and peak of wave is similar to one another, one is always overpowering the other.
The man who watches the sea wonders if the waves will ever compensate each other instead of overpowering all the time.
The man who watches the sea also wonders what would the waves become if they compensate each other although he knows the waves continue overpowering each other.
The man who watches the sea says compensating waves bring calmness while overpowering waves bring roughness; then, he continues, calmness brings demise to waves while roughness brings survival.
The man who watches the sea questions and then questions.
The man who watches the sea continues watching the sea.
“Yeew!” “You are illegitimate?”
It’s repulsive to the one who questions.
It’s repugnant to the one who’s being questioned.
Why is it important whether one is legitimate or not?
Or, isn’t it important?
It’s not the importance, it’s the legality.
Alright, it’s the legality that determines legitimacy.
But then why is illegitimacy repulsive and repugnant?
It shouldn’t be repulsive and repugnant,
it’s only the legality bound difference between legitimacy and illegitimacy,
one’s exactly the same as anyone who is born in their parents.
Okay, I understand; but why do I still think that I’m illegitimate?
I feel I’m missing the love from my parents.