I gently lift him from his wooden coffin, and he is resurrected with the help of my gentle breath. As I set him back down, his brass body shimmers in the light, his appealing keys awaiting to be pressed, and he beckons to me to be played once more. I again place my lips on the cold mouthpiece and listen to the trumpet's haunting song.
"Play me forever," he says. "Let the whole world be exposed to my song. Let them forget war and hate. Let them love life and each other. Music can be the language of all people. Help me to reach those poor souls who do not understand." …
