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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 …

…fulfill my role as a trumpeter-the messenger of music. My trumpet speaks to me of peace and love, and through him, I can educate the world. The flute lives through me-he uses my air to sing his beautiful songs and touch countless lives throughout the world. One cannot let him lay in his coffin and remain cold and lifeless. He must continue to be played in order to live on-so that music can live on.