Orchestrated Excursion

"What is a river besides watery door?"

She plays her banjo while we both float along, as if the tune itself somehow propells us, reassuring its listeners even as it wanders that this current leads us home. We look up at the waters above, having traveled so far this time. I can hear it in her voice, I can feel it in her soul, our steps have synchronized past the point where concern for this trip's length is necessary. I can sense more to the song, but I know not yet what shape its memory might take, so its lyrics drift from my direct awareness, even while sparking my mind's eye, in an indirect sense.

"An ineffible call, of an unthwartable heart. Those with ears to hear..." She hums along as the rest of the message slips beneath the waters below, swimming the tides like dolphins, I imagine still echoing while they themselves wander, just as these words always have, and their bearers' always will.

I remember the thread and a journey much more claustrophobic (though in respect only) than this one, and consider the architecture of that underground waterway, and the cave that it led to. As I find myself wondering if my soulmate would remodel any of it, given the chance, my companion strums along, as if reading my mind and choosing to accompany Wonder directly within its halls. The interior hallways of stories connected, left open ended (if only via side door), etc. unfold in my mind's eye, and shed some light on the pathways that might connect any of us. While these hallways are mine in their origination- if one might consider authorship to apply so broadly- what others might exist? Even as I think this a smirk forms on my face, and I feel like I can hear that same smirk, reflected, shimmer from the melody as well, subtly reminding me that examples of her pathways that I wonder about decorate our audible environment even now.

How is time measured here anyway? The words feel like they wouldn't fit, so they are left unsaid. I remember Hope, and wonder of the condition our castles built by sand, stone, starry eyes and exposed hearts. I imagine how she would journey here, where her pathways would intersect with our voyage. The surfaces shine a rainbow and then another, before many more erupt as if fireworks, connecting in places and imaging a dream memory. My mind eye quickly steps from this concept though, as I find the weather suddenly surging along with this visual stimuli, despite the gap between us. My companion, however, seems wildly unfazed; her humming and strumming remain crystal clear, renewing my focus. Why is this starting to feel like a dream, but one that persists after you've woken up into it?

Co-domains. The music reminds me that where our love and talents converge make us just as inseparably unique as where they diverge. I see the once tightly patterned art painting rainbows in the sky visibly relax, and start to meander the skies that they once seemed to structure. I consider the scalability of this image in many directly incompatible ways, and see the python morphing both in my hand and staring at the start night sky at once. I see how many permutations remain, but their staggering volume does not concern me. I have faith that these perspectives will reconcile; the polarizing senses of general danger and local calm lead me to believe that they are aligning already. I have faith that I chose correctly- know the eyes of those you travel with, and trust their hearts. Our paths through this storm differ necessarily, and so we are different now than when we embarked, moment by moment changing. All changes around us as well, so much as to unbalance even the week studied in the machine's motion but, if I know your eyes, and we remember how our paths intertwine, we set our stage and the rest dances atop it, pleasantly parsing the puzzle. 

These webs intertwine as well, and I can feel, with each passing note, and in the pictures drawn where each of our own lines overlap, we approach critical mass where this, THIS, becomes a co-op mission. Even if that co-op mission is limited in possibility to imagining the dragon powerful enough to act as adversary, there is a place, however complex, where this alignment occurs. I smile, once more, stars return to my eyes; this is where the breeze of our song take us. I am reminded of the roller coaster adventure we had slipping through uncharted spaces between, reimagining the seas and a new thought to pass the time crosses my mind "If you were to be the ultimate dragon in a dream, how would you shape it, what would be your form?" I can feel her gears turning from here, seemingly aided by the ceaseless stream of notes that her fingers still arrange with the banjo's strings. She'll respond, she always does and, when she does, I'll know it right away. She shines so brightly in those dreams where I have seen her. I find myself drifting away, joyously lost in the gears, tightening here and oiling there, still unsure if I'll ever know if such pittances offered, in this realm both foreign and precious to me, make a difference.