Advertisement Essay Research Paper CEMETORYCemetery is the

Advertisement Essay, Research Paper

CEMETORY

Cemetery is the last peaceable topographic point for our restless psyche. It is the topographic point of our concluding terminal. It is non merely a topographic point of gravestone and grave, it is the burial land of our love 1s. When I visited the graveyard for the first clip. The first thing I noticed was the gravestones and the Gravess. Some Gravess had flower on them. Few trees were scattered throw out the land. I heard the air current as it passes through the gravestones and made sissing sound. I felt soundlessness and peaceableness in this confined country, which was fortified by unseeable fencings. Unlike the other topographic points, the nexus to the out side universe was cutout here. As I sat there I began to see something different about this topographic point. I saw history of world being buried here.

I roamed through the graveyard. I tried to happen an oldest grave. I came upon a grave, the day of the month on it was 1899 which wasn? t the oldest grave comparison to the other gravestone I came across. What strikes me the most was the age of its resident. The gravestone read, ? 1894-1899?

? I am five old ages old?

It gave me the sense of mortality. The gravestone might be over two hundr

ed old ages old, but the small miss was still give old ages old. Regardless how old I got over the following few old ages. The small miss will ever be five old ages old. She was immortal. Time stood still for her.

Cemetery holds the history of the people being buried at that place. We struggle through out our unrecorded. We hate each other, on the footing of the colour of our tegument, our race and our faith. We celebrate our retaliation every bit loudest as we can. We destroy in order to thrive. But people here were in peace. My female parent ever told me the narrative of Sikinder-e-Azam. He is known to western universe as Alexander? the-great. She told me how he conquers the universe and how powerful he was. But when he died on the boundary line of Persia he took nil with him. He entered his grave with empty custodies. He is lying in his grave merely like everybody else, peacefully.

The graveyard ever reminded me the real property of life. Life is short and we all must decease someday, so it is the portion of our life rhythm. Every beggary has its stoping and we should ever retrieve that. Life exists merely for a fraction in clip. In the terminal the life that we cherished so mush merely betrays us. The decease that we tried so difficult to avoid, takes