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.