The bellows of smoke that rose in the air; still had

poignant traces of their breath, The splinters of glass shattered all around; still had

profound stains of their blood,

The gargantuan slabs of concrete lying in disarray;

still had brutally pulverized fragments of their

valiant bones,

The incoherently shaped mirrors poking out from the

rubble; still had their terrorized reflections, The sordid bits of paper blended with stone; still had

embodiments of their last minute declarations,

The disastrously squelched telephone pieces; still had

shrill recordings of their horrified and ghastly

screams,

The unconsumed cakes of food adhering to the severely

distorted lifts; still had vivacious traces of their

saliva,

The strands of metallic junk diffusing from the broken

car seats; still had the blurred photo of their

beloved,

The ripped apart fragments of curtain cloth wound

limply around the gleaming iron nails; still contained

curled masses of their blood soaked hair, The disdainfully beaten pieces of plaster engulfed in clouds of dust; were still impregnated with scores of

their shimmering teeth,

The mud sprinkled for kilometers on the stretch; was

still moist with their river of agonized tears; which

must have profusely oozed out from their cheeks,

The mammoth sized pillars which once held the building

one piece from beneath; were still flooded with

bonquet’s of bruised flowers which they had been just

rewarded for their achievements,

The eagle which incessantly encircled the appalling

sight; still had their expensive chains of silver in

its beak, The thoroughly dismantled upholstery buried several feet under the debris; still contained compassionate

traces of their warmth, The computer screens split apart into infinite halves;

still displayed nostalgic images of their eyes, The majestic wall paintings battered and bashed from

all sides; still had animated marks of their caress, The revolving chairs now an inconspicuous shadow of

themselves; still had a fine conglomerate of chocolate powder; which they must be merrily munching a few

seconds before,

The colossal chimneys which were now reduced to

matchsticks; still had their countless dreams

rampantly lingering around,

And who says they were dead?, for if not anybody; but

it is my firm belief that they were living; as no

matter how unprecedented was the tragedy; no matter

how horrific their destiny had been; their hearts were

palpitating louder than outside world several feet

below the rubble; with each beat louder than the other

and proclaiming that THEY WERE STILL BREATHING AND

ALIVE…