Hans Zimmer's composes music that asks you, then instinctively forces you to feel. Anything and everything. Singing melodies of comfort, coupled with tension, it pulls at your skin. Palpating from the tiniest nerve in your fingertips, out the heel of your foot. It begins gradually, a crescendo into a symphony of musical texture, until Hans silences the noise and leaves you there. Alone. With nothing but your own thoughts.

He sat in his room, moppy hair as dark as the night sky falling in his face, playing quietly with his red fire truck. He thought to himself how one day he'd like to be a hero like them. Strong. Willful. Fearless. He'd save families from burning houses. Kids from the tallest trees. Old people when they couldn't help themselves. And as he pushed his truck across the hardwood floor he could hear the sirens of his life going off. He could hear the future.

That's not to say his mother didn't think he wasn't quite the monster at times. Terrorizing his older brother, a true testament to siblings ability to get under one another's skin. An outgoing, unmanageable young boy at times, his mother wondered if he'd ever settle down. If the adorable devilish smile that made her heart melt would always exist.

And I'm sure as she watched her baby boy get older, a handsomer version of her young 5 year old, she hoped he'd keep his gentle nature wrapped somewhere in the darkness of adolescence and young twenty-somethings. I'd imagine she sat home often hoping you were safe as you tested your will and strength in many aspects of your life. Like every mother, she worried her son would push the lines a bit too far.

She would be happy to know that to this day your smile leaves nothing to the imagination. It's the hug you unwillingly give, wrapping tightly around the chest in a comforting suffocation. And the devil still rests somewhere in its crease. Forgetting not why you are so engaging, your charm warrants a certain persona. Whether that is your natural self, or someone you've created over the years I'm not sure. The man with striking features; misty blue eyes that go far deeper than anyone knows, you embody an aura of mystery that entices strangers and friends a like.

But when the clock strikes 2am and you are alone in your bedroom, does the innocence return? Do red fire trucks speed across your floor in hopes of saving someone? I imagine it's when you let the world dissolve away. Or maybe it's when you let someone special in. A time when the weight is lifted from your chest and you remember why you're here and how you got there. And as you lay in your bed and let the days events fold into your sheets, I'd think that somewhere the little boy returns. If not only for a flicker of a moment. He'd dream of saving lives. And realize he's probably already done so.