Modal Sojourn

Tomorrow eludes the present. I continue to dream of melody, laboring to stay within the confines of the mode. Occasionally, I add tentative harmonics to test the liquidity of the tune. Can it survive alone or does it require decorative help? Often I am tempted to create rhythmic changes, like those she suggested. Perhaps they are what is needed for me to emerge from myself again. If only I could hear her exquisite colors once more or see her lullaby, then could I truly be myself, if only for a brevity. It would be worth it, to be concise and glorious.

But, I am alone within my thoughts. Perhaps they came to instill the way so that I could forage through light and time without a crutch. Or maybe I am dead, faced with a choice or taunted by one which is unattainable. No doubt I need her symbiotically more than they surmised. Still, her ambiance inspires me to keep singing. I intend to emerge if it is at all achievable, though I be confined to this impermeable blackness forever. It is the doing that matters, not the trying. That must be the gift from the prophet and I give it credence. Someday, with luck and perseverance, I will penetrate this shell and find her. My surgery mends as I approach the future. Prior such travels and experiences slowly intrude and I think I recall something of myself. I am a time technician, one who inadvertently fell into the caption field. When I come forth, Marie and I will forge a song of magnificence together. I do so prefer the duet.