Tonight there's just a sliver off a full moon, a night on the cusp of magic. It drew me out to play suspended diminished chords in moody progressions by candle light on the porch. Dreamily, eerily, the music washed over the garden in waves, pulled like the tide over a thousand miles away. Dissonance, resolve, dissonance, resolve, dissonance. Never ending. When a breeze took the candle's flame and I was left alone with the moon, the song found its voice. Some progressions are only complete when they are left incomplete. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.
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