At night the ship sings.
He finds himself there, listening to the song. He's not quite aware of it, but something deep inside himself is there, attentive.
He never gets too close to it, the last incidence was enough for him. Still, he goes there to relax. To mediate.
When the days get rougher and harder, he stays longer slowly loosening up.
Sometimes, rarely but then more and more often, he falls asleep there. He'll wake and stumble back to bed, mind still swimming as song filtered through and Vorlon's stood ominously in the background.
The mottled shifting colors of green and brown and black twisting and turning and melding into something glowing.
Kosh waits and speaks in riddles. The ship sings in whispers. Something shines and a voice speaks, "Your thoughts are a song... And I am here."
He wakes and blinks. He waits, and shakes his head.
As nearly every night and many more for just a few short months, Sheridan gets up and glances back at the ship before leaving.
His steps echo along the corridor, and Kosh watches.
The ship sings.