Nothing’s Ever Built To Last | 21 Guns

Nothing’s ever built to last, this is a line from Green Day’s 21 Guns. That song surges many emotions inside, but I’ve always thought of this particular line as a very sad one. Everything’s going go end, the Summer, the school, the best winning streak, the best times of youth. Someone will always tell you how this is the best time and also how this will be over.

But it struck me today, suddenly, as I was walking in the afternoon sun. Maybe this isn’t a sad line after all. Nothing’s built to last also means the pain, the agony, the confusion, the fear, none of it will last forever. The heart burning feeling of being lost, of not understanding your own worth, all of these will end too.

This too shall pass. Nothing’s built to last. So perhaps it’s better to sleep rather than worrying about 1325 things at 12 in the morning.

I Think of Summer

I think of summer
as autumn moves away
opening the doors to winter.

Strong gust of November winds
blow past my shell
ripping apart my safe house
just at the start of the cold.

Summer has ended,
a season gone
but work still remains to be done.

I’ve been lazy
dancing under the sun,
now I’ll shiver and run
at the sight of the beacon,
nature’s sign of change.

I think of summer,
but summer’s gone.
I think of the next summer.

I will always think of summer.

Festival of Lights | A Prose

As I stand on the terrace, chilly November wind brushes past the tip of my nose. I might catch a cold, there’s a 150% chance and I still stand there.

There are lights everywhere, mostly bright blue and green, dangling from houses in vertical lines. They used to be milder and warmer before, but still beautiful they are.

I can smell the fresh marigold all around, blooming in flower pots or hanging as garlands. Their bright yellow color reminds me of warmer days, of summer, of the sun, of the light. Incense sticks burn somewhere behind, it’s smell reminds me of the time I am in.

The city is a jewel in the dark night, devoid of the moon. The night is quiet and yet playful, it shines in colors of all kinds, in its own kind. But this night must end too, like all other nights. And yet I’d pray for time to slow down a little, if not much, for my senses to take hold of the beautiful moment that was, that is and that will be.

When I was a kid these lights could slow time down, filling my heart with the joy of just what it was – lights. I could then just say, ‘There’s still three days before school starts. I should enjoy these three days to the fullest.’ I didn’t know how long 24 hours would take. I’d just remain awake for a long time, believing I had slowed time down. These lights still fill my heart with joy of all that it is, but time seems to be always in a rush, or perhaps I’ve lost the magic keys that could slow it down. Maybe there still are three days before school starts and maybe I should still enjoy them. There are still 24 hours in a day.

The lights will return, perhaps in different shades the next year, but the oil lamps will always burn, radiating the rays of the sun.