Day 84

In feverish dreaming, I remember:

In a cave. Alone. I sit in pitch black.

It is difficult to fathom the layers of shadow before me. I cannot move, for fear of the dark.

Open your eyes. 

A voice whispers. It is soothing and calm, yet powerful and chilling. My remaining senses are enveloped by the vibrations of this would be guide.

Open your eyes.

They are open.

So then you can see?

No, I cannot.

Then you must have yet to open your eyes.

I do not argue, as the juvenile argument has strange wisdom in it.

Close your eyes.

This I do.

Now: Open your eyes and see.

This I do. And now this I can.

The cavern is alight with blue flame. I know this fire is not real. No warmth, only luminescence. A faerie light that only I perceive.

Now nothing is hidden from you.

I trust these words to be the truth, but somehow know that a price has been paid. Some compact has traded a part of myself for this new vision.

Despite this feeling of dread I whistle; only to hear my echo's chorus. I click my tongue for percussion.

I am alone in this wonder. In a darkness that can no longer encroach me, making music that will lead me.

Nothing shall be hidden from me.