Set upon a high peak, a man with a scraggly gray beard and more wrinkles than teeth contemplated his existence in this cruel world. He remembered his early days, lonely, on a dusty farm in tornado alley with no friends, siblings, or even parents that cared for him. Thoughts of his three young children plucked from their mother’s womb with no air in their lungs, and no color to their skin filled his mind. Tears shed for his late wife who left too soon: her passing, an unwelcome demise. She was the last flame still flickering for him, long burnt out. As he sat, he pondered; there was no one to call him when supper was ready, no kids to tuck into bed and kiss goodnight, not even a furry mutt to walk. As the sun set far off on the horizon, a pinkish glow illuminated the blue sky with its vibrant hues, which brought a smile to his withered face. You see, pink was his wife’s favorite color. And green, the color of the grass of the bungalow he bought when they were newlywed. The yellow tones reminded him of the nursery that belonged to his daughter, a miracle baby with red curls and freckles. And brown, the color of the murky stream behind his childhood home where he spent summers fishing without a care in the world. As the pink tones faded into black, the old man smiled, for he knew that there was just as much good for all bad in this world. For all the cruelness in this world, there was just as much love. And for all tragic in this world, there were just as many miracles. And so, he started his journey back down the mountain, and although he can’t often visit (his eyesight or knees are not what they used to be), every time he sees a sunset, it reminds him that from the night a sunrise comes. And from a storm, a rainbow materializes. And from all the evil that surrounds us, love and kindness will conquer all.