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28 February 2006 @ 12:58 pm












































(Colder.)


There's noth
ing to do bu
t go onward.












































After a while
the floor begi
ns to slope grad
ually downwards, an
d the walls slowly widen out
on either side until they're beyond reach. Far beyond.





This passage (this final passage?) seems to go down and down forever.





Suppose I try to tell you
The secrets of this
house, and how I live here;
Suppose I tell you who I am, in fact....










It's been a long time since there's been any noise, any movement, at all. No noise but the quiet echo of your footfalls; no movement but your own.
Who is the third who walks always beside you?

The walls are gone. Maybe the floor is gone too; maybe there's nothing here at all but you.
The thing I strongly seized
Has turned to darkness, and darkness rides my heart.

If you could solve this darkness you would have me.



Down,
     down,
          down.

          down.
          down.
          down.


No rest there is,--
No more for me than you. I move here always,
From quiet room to room, from wall to wall,
Searching and plotting, weaving a web of days.
This is my
house, and now, perhaps, you know me.



Until

suddenly,

your outstretched hand brushes something.








A door.

It's unlocked.