Eternal Promises

Do we ever realise that nothing is for forever? Do we realised that everything has an end and a beginning?
Then why do we chant, promises of eternity day and night like prayers with absolute faith and divinity?
Maybe we don't realise, that the world was created once and will be destroyed someday. Maybe the rage and violence of the mankind be the root of its destruction, or some external god gifted force but, amidst the hums of eternal promises we let our fate to do all the magic. Not, even realising that, magic lies in us.
The magic of loving and being loved.
Our soul is often lost in turmoil with thunder raging inside. The beating of the storm overshadows and often destroys the angel inside us. It is like a gypsy meandering in the depths of our heart through the darkness waiting for the light that never comes.
While drawing the ending line we can always say,
"Eternal bonds are just a myth, and heartbreaks are reality. "

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Excerpt #8

"I have never before had such a strong feeling that I was devoid of secret dimensions, confined within the limits of my body, from which airy thoughts float up like bubbles. I build memories with my present self. I am cast out, forsaken in the present: I vainly try to rejoin the past: I cannot escape." --Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea

Excerpt #13

“Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay" we say. "I'm alright". But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Excerpt #7

"For a hundred dead stories there still remain one or two living ones. I evoke these with caution, occasionally, not too often, for fear of wearing them out, I fish one out, again I see the scenery, the characters, the attitudes. I stop suddenly: there is a flaw, I have seen a word pierce through the web of sensations. I suppose that this word will soon take the place of several images I love. I must stop quickly and think of something else; I don’t want to tire my memories. In vain; the next time I evoke them a good part will be congealed." - Jean Paul Sartre, Nausea

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