{"id":4192,"date":"2026-03-29T13:35:54","date_gmt":"2026-03-29T10:35:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/?p=4192"},"modified":"2026-03-29T13:35:54","modified_gmt":"2026-03-29T10:35:54","slug":"houses-grow-old","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/?p=4192","title":{"rendered":"HOUSES GROW OLD"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Konstantinos Konstantinidis \u2013 Amphictyon<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Houses grow old,
with time they become haunted;
in vain you try to repair them \u2014
how long will you still remain?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like their master, so are they,
once blooming like lilies,
now, together with him, wrinkled,
loosened and warped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In vain now to maintain them;
which of your descendants would dwell there?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They have become antique shops,
heaps of memory and books;
a house \u2014 a museum.
How can you throw away your child\u2019s prize?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if you cast away your very life,
as if you deny the divine;
and yet, one day, all will be lost,
like stardust drifting through the universe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Courtyards and single homes have vanished,
boxes have come \u2014 apartment blocks through the years;
they too grow old, worn and tired,
and the shores fill with forgotten villas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Planned once by Doxiadis \u2014 yet unheard,
ugliness went on and never ceased.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Friendships fade, hollow and frail,
bursting like bubbles;
no friendship truly remains alive,
only kinship \u2014 familiar warmth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

New \u201cfriends\u201d \u2014 doctors and hospitals,
a bitter comfort in an empty society;
only hopes endure, resilient,
fluttering like butterflies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Friends grow fewer, vanish in silence,
yet the house is full \u2014 of life and of the past;
wherever you go, you will long for it,
for what once gave you soul and heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now everything ages quickly \u2014
and if you do not change, the waves will cover you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elders of another age
still stand, resilient;
while they should have turned to ash,
others depart earlier, in the whirl of the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you cross the Rubicon of ninety,
you look toward a hundred \u2014 perhaps you reach it;
with moderation in food and step,
with calm thought, without turmoil or sorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

New technology burdens old age \u2014
how to learn the digital world the screen commands?
and if one cannot, he is cast aside like a shadow,
old age abandoned, forever alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Children of another time, another life,
more natural, simpler, with discipline and duty;
innocence is lost, romance and essence gone,
violence has replaced measure, dignity, and patriotism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet hope never dies \u2014
and war appears, breathing again;
change flows like a torrent,
sweeping everything along its course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It changes you too, without your knowing;
it matures you, takes your youth away.
Fate silently leads you \u2014
all things move embraced in its net.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When you grow and have children,
then you understand time deeply;
everything runs, everything ages,
eras end within museums.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What was fashion yesterday fades today,
like a rose that blooms and quickly withers;
and you run \u2014 but what can you catch?
no one has ever tamed time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Have you never wondered, never thought,
what your time means before eternity?
For what purpose have you come to life,
and what do you represent in the infinite?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wars grow old \u2014 yet like Cronus are reborn;
new weapons are sold across the world,
perfected within laboratories;
old and new alike bring death,
and even religions bless them,
while profiteers grow rich in madness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the thinker walks alone now,
with a resounding voice:
\u201cStop the war \u2014 Muslims, Jews, and Christians!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Democracy ages and bends,
the voice of the people faintly echoes;
yet the people persist \u2014 still hoping
that one day their power will be heard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Photographs fade in the light,
memories tangle like an old web;
respect is lost, shame is silent,
and each man holds the law in his own hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Religions age \u2014 yet values remain;
customs and feasts still bind the world;
but without measure, without harmony,
war comes \u2014 bringing melancholy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Drums of war and suspicion resound;
who will stop profiteering?
War becomes a monster before it begins,
devouring the entrails of nations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet \u2014 all things grow old, but not power;
party rule feeds on nectar and grows,
the same words, the same deep wounds,
truth fading into shadows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The media hold the minds of the masses,
bringing storms everywhere;
ideologies pass like tempests,
leaving ruins before they vanish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Great powers too grow old,
geopolitical quakes bring upheaval;
new peoples rise upon the earth,
the old fade into arrogance and guilt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only one thing does not age \u2014 the sweet homeland, Hellas<\/strong>,
standing upright in every trial;
and when fierce winds blow,
it unites as one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And Hellenic civilization, like fragrant basil,
ever-living and timeless, continues to breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(29\/3\/26)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amphictyon \u2013 Major General (ret.) Konstantinos Konstantinidis
Writer, Member of the Society of Greek Writers
http:\/\/www.amphiktyon.blogspot.com<\/a>
http:\/\/www.amphiktyon.org<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Konstantinos Konstantinidis \u2013 Amphictyon Houses grow old,with time they become haunted;in vain you try to repair them \u2014how long will you still remain? Like their master, so are they,once blooming like lilies,now, together with him, wrinkled,loosened and warped. In vain now to maintain them;which of your descendants would dwell there? They have become antique shops,heaps … <\/p>\n

\u03a3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c7\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 “HOUSES GROW OLD”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4192","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4192","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4192"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4192\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4193,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4192\/revisions\/4193"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4192"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4192"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/amphiktyon.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4192"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}