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28 February 2006 @ 12:58 pm


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.



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.



your outstretched hand brushes something.

A door.

It's unlocked.