i have this recurring thought of getting a revolver and placing one bullet in the chamber as an offer to fate or a challenge like here s my pound of flesh take if my purpose is in death then i d record it so you could hear fate s response i d either bang drop or click breath hard cause you know philosophies only go so far it s words words words then tomorrow we re forgotten the world is very different now the ballet or the bullet explains itself only when it is dark enough can you see the stars i heard shots and i saw people crawling on the floor the apostle of non violence and the civil rights movement he brought to the white house the vigor of youth the bullet exploded in his face and i heard my husband say everything is alright everything is alright 