A dead day

http://www.telegraphindia.com/1090323/jsp/frontpage/story_10710225.jsp
http://grassonfire.blogspot.com/

A day today has died. I can see it wasting itself. Not even the busiest soul is at work today. For a certain soul has left to peace.
The heavens have joined us in our protest. They shed the tears of rain on this black day of spring. In a silent manner, like the suppressed sobs of a heart wounded beyond repair. Isn't this scary now; this is just not the right place for a heart to be wounded in. Because it wont be treated here. But it will have to learn to not to protest against this. It shall quieten itself till it makes no noise in the end. It will stop beating.
Today it was heard. It was allowed to speak, and how it spoke. It drowned everything else in its tide. Everything has been swept in it. To the last tickle of an unbroken world. And yet, all the wishes of all the hearts can not restore us back to the state of apathy which the heart longs for now. It was unheard then, but at least it had not paid the price.