Pink Black and Blue

Somewhere beyond the musical notes and the sounds that reach my ears, something resonates. Pure tones, like a see through silk curtain gently flowing open in a delicate breeze. It comes from a place I recognize but do not remember.

Tantalizingly close, like the bright sky before sunrise. I know it's there, but I don't know if it'll ever come. Perhaps after we die, we'll know the truth. Maybe it's where we're all headed. Maybe it's where we all came from.

A man smiles, the blood still dripping from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. The numb throbbing pain is far away from him. He squints in the distance to see the sky in the horizon broken open by a bright red gash of sunrise. He says he isn't brave. Bravery would be if he faced what he feared, and smiled. He smiles at death; he isn't afraid. They should have threatened him with something he cared about.