Gone
His fingers shake as he realizes what he has done. His eyes lift up to the heavens as the clock ticks, a monotone tick-tock, counting down the final moments of his life. A noose, perfectly crafted, hangs before him, and he is standing on a chair. He is understanding the kiss of finality on his breath, his movements, his thoughts.
This is it.
Fate has dear Chris now. Chris is- and has been- gone.
Ths chair falls, without Chris. Now, like his soul has been, his body is gone.
But though it is too late for him, it is not too late for us. There is more to life than death; there are exotic colors and rock concerts and singing birds. There is vibrancy to life that the monochrome depression will not show us; we must reclaim our lives to seek out true joy. We must not live for the night, but for the day. Sleep is not for us to hide from reality, it is to prepare us for our adventures. Life is not for us to hope to die, but to seek out happiness. Chris' death is not for us to imitate, but to trigger us to live in a way he would be proud of.
Life is beautiful if we choose to see it.
We are not gone.
And that's just how Chris Cornell likes it.