Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. - Plato

Stones in the graveyard

Is it winter? The chill in the breeze is so longing. Like lost memories it beckons you to explore, explore your inner sanctity to find something you otherwise missed, and then, to discover perhaps? moments wiped out from the slate of inadvertent negligence. Oh the joy! to relive those golden hours but why shed tears then? when you feel their presence in every breath you take. What folly could befall this earth? why let morbidity reign this place always? Where are the colors, the festivals, the celebrations? We the stones ask! Aren't we guardians of the loved ones? and in that way, aren't we blessed? yes, yes, yes we can love, we can live too! but we can't cry is it our fault? insects don't cry too! but we assure you we are better than them Well, we are old folks centuries of existence we have watched generations come and go but we remain the same our silence is our language Humans didn't change too! They always shed tears when they come here. We hope we could tell them how the precious bodies of their loved ones is absorbed by Mother Earth to feed the life, the grass on which they stand.. but, our silence is our language. So from the bosom of our heart We urge you to look beyond the scars, to feel beyond the pain. Only then, our place too will be a Heaven.

© miraj


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