In the sound of silence, the silence of mort, not the sound which could be touched by mundane hearing, but with hearing of love, the zephyr holds the bloody dust gently, and sparses the smell of sorrow, in the land of tears, gathering the nature to companion with him. And as the zephyr is mourning, the sky wears its black veil, desiring the dark thunder clouds to join them in bewailing, and washing the nature with its sad rain drops.  While the deceased faces, are sleeping gently, as fair jasmines, you can see the shiny drops of ruby, kissing their faded faces, as if nature ablutions with their ruby blood. While in their weary hearts peace can be touched, but, by eyes peace is vanish. In this silence one can hear , the angels wings,  sleeping their shadow gently on the land of tears, embracing sprits to paradise . Even the howling of the orphans weary voice, while their crystal tear drops are dancing with the dart,  which is sleeping softly on their afflicted face, knows how peace
 can fondle ones heart, but our vigorous arms don’t know how to embrace peace in heart. But still we don’t feel shame of the diamond tear drops of a toddler, who is wailing from her broken heart . As the orphans feeble tender hands are shivering for their mothers hand , one can touch  their innocent looks which are asking for peace in one heart.