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.