November 30, 2009 § 16 Comments
It is surprisingly cool. Such days are few and far between, in this city. This city, which I call home. Where I have lived here forever, except for a few sojourns.
As the wind blows from the east, from the direction of the sea, you realize that nothing much has changed but a lot has happened. The same smells and the same shanty dirty streets. The parked cars, which eat into the road, have increased. Layers and layers of tar have been added. Old houses are gone and new flats have come in.
Yet the same old trees, sway in the distance, most have weathered the storms of nature and man’s insanity. People have grown older, new friends have been found, old ones have either been blown away by the winds or the relationships have just waned, but history just strolls on. It walks past the very streets, which I transverse, still. I can see it, silently taking stock, of the events- what happens today, leads to a tomorrow.
It speaks through people. We hear about the past, we gain hope and passion for the future. We hope to out do it. It fuels our aspirations, by setting the chimes. We change, we walk past those things and suddenly realize in vain, but it remains. It is a superfluous being. It transpires, it lives, it exists, in our very blood, that which can never be changed by mere concrete.
I have been hearing it for 18 years and some of its stories have been forgotten, some distinctly still clear, it still accompanies me. It instigates, it is the thread of attachment, it is what makes the chemical being, live. It is what cognates. My heart pumps it, I can feel it. The mind never tires, the hope of a better tomorrow, the dreams of unseen heights and the thrills and spills.
The path has long been laid. But even that is preceded, by the waves and the lands. We are fascinated, when we hear of our past, not only about our family, its achievements, contributions, but also at the history of our very Earth and universe- the true family, which we belong to.
We hold on to what we can. No amount of spirituality and science can cause a centrifugation in us. It is innate. It is what makes us, us. Memories remain of from where we came, the nostalgia will be sustained. Beyond skin, flesh and bones, our blood is thicker.
I stand upon, the wind tickles, I smile and I walk on. Life is never the same, change is the only constant, that is why everything remains.