You stand before the gate. It is iron. It is rusted. The rust is deep. It eats the metal. It eats the light. You are a soldier. You wear the gray. You are old. Your knees ache. You are tired. You want to leave. You do not leave. You look up. The building is tall. It is stone. It is cold. It is empty. It was not always empty. It was full. It was full of sound. It was full of life. Now it is dead. The wind blows. The wind is thin. It whistles through the cracks. It sounds like a cry. It sounds like a laugh. It is hard to tell. You are not here to laugh. You are here to find. You are here to know. You carry a map. The map is old. The map is soft. The ink is faded. You trace the lines. You know the way. You know it well. You have walked it in your dreams. You have walked it in your blood.

You enter the gate. The gate creaks. The sound is loud. It is sharp. It hurts your ears. The air inside is stale. It smells of dust. It smells of rot. It smells of time. You walk forward. Your boots are heavy. The ground is uneven. Stones shift under your feet. You do not stumble. You are steady. You are calm. Your heart beats slow. Your heart beats sure. You do not fear the dark. You have lived in the dark. You have made the dark your friend. You walk deeper. The walls close in. They are high. They are thick. They watch you. They judge you. You do not care. You walk on.

The hallway is long. It is narrow. The floor is cracked. Moss grows in the cracks. It is green. It is soft. It is alive. It is the only thing that is alive. You touch the moss. It is cold. It is wet. It feels like skin. You pull your hand away. You do not want to touch it. You do not want to feel it. You keep walking. The light fades. The sun is gone. The sky is gray. The sky is low. It presses down on the roof. It presses down on your chest. You feel the weight. You feel the pressure. You breathe. You breathe deep. You fill your lungs. You hold the air. You release it. You breathe again. You are still here. You are still standing. You are still you.

You reach the door. The door is wood. The wood is dark. The wood is wet. You push it. It opens. The hinge screams. It is a high sound. It is a clear sound. It cuts the air. It cuts the silence. You step inside. The room is small. It is square. The floor is stone. The walls are stone. The ceiling is stone. It is a box. It is a cage. You look around. You see nothing. You see only stone. You see only dark. You wait. You wait for the truth. You wait for the ghost. You wait for the end.

The air changes. It grows cold. It grows still. The dust stops moving. The dust hangs in the air. It hangs like fog. It hangs like breath. You see a shape. It is in the corner. It is small. It is white. It is a figure. It sits. It does not move. It does not breathe. It is a statue. It is a memory. You walk toward it. Your steps are slow. Your steps are soft. You do not want to wake it. You do not want to startle it. You stop. You look at it. It is a woman. She is young. She is pretty. Her hair is loose. Her eyes are closed. Her face is pale. Her face is calm. She is at peace. She is at rest. She is gone.

You know her. You know her name. You know her face. You know her soul. She is Margaret. She is your wife. She is your love. She is your life. She is dead. She has been dead for years. She has been dead for decades. You do not care. You are here. You are now. You look at her. You look into her eyes. They are closed. They are open. They are both. They are neither. They are everything. You see the truth. You see the lie. You see the pain. You see the joy. You see the end. You see the start.

You did not kill her. You did not touch her. You did not hurt her. You were not there. You were far away. You were at war. You were in the mud. You were in the blood. You were in the fire. You were not there. You were not the cause. You were not the sin. You were the witness. You were the survivor. You were the one who lived. You were the one who remembered. You were the one who felt. You felt the guilt. You felt the shame. You felt the blame. You carried it. You carried it heavy. You carried it long. You carried it home. You carried it here. You carried it to her.

You look at the walls. The walls are marked. The marks are deep. The marks are fresh. They are not old. They are not dust. They are scratches. They are nails. They are fingers. They are desperate. They are afraid. They are angry. They are mad. You look at the marks. You see the shape. You see the word. You see the name. It is your name. It is carved. It is cut. It is written in blood. It is written in pain. It is written in rage. You did not write it. She did not write it. The ghost wrote it. The fear wrote it. The madness wrote it. You are the target. You are the enemy. You are the ghost. You are the haunt. You are the shadow. You are the sin.

You are not the sin. You are the man. You are the soldier. You are the human. You are the love. You are the heart. You are the soul. You are the truth. The truth is this. You did not kill her. You did not hurt her. You did not leave her. You left the war. You left the world. You left the life. You came back. You came home. You found her. You found the asylum. You found the end. You found the peace. You found the release. You found the freedom.

You look at Margaret. She is still. She is calm. She is free. She is gone. You are still here. You are still bound. You are still tied. You are still caught. You are still trapped. You look at the door. The door is closed. The door is locked. The key is gone. The way is lost. The path is dead. The end is here. You are here. You are the end. You are the sacrifice. You are the offering. You are the price. You pay the price. You pay the cost. You pay the debt. You pay the toll.

You close your eyes. You feel the cold. You feel the dark. You feel the still. You feel the peace. You feel the end. You do not fight. You do not run. You do not cry. You do not scream. You accept. You accept the truth. You accept the lie. You accept the pain. You accept the guilt. You accept the blame. You accept the end. You let it go. You let it fall. You let it fade. You let it die. You let it be.

The air moves. The dust moves. The light moves. The dark moves. The room moves. The walls move. The floor moves. The ceiling moves. The ghost moves. The truth moves. The lie moves. The pain moves. The joy moves. The end moves. The start moves. The life moves. The death moves. The time moves. The space moves. The self moves. The soul moves. The heart moves. The mind moves. The body moves. The spirit moves. The world moves. The universe moves. Everything moves. Nothing stays. Nothing remains. Nothing lasts.

You stand. You are still. You are quiet. You are calm. You are free. You are gone. You are here. You are there. You are nowhere. You are everywhere. You are Margaret. You are the soldier. You are the ghost. You are the stone. You are the dust. You are the light. You are the dark. You are the sound. You are the silence. You are the breath. You are the pause. You are the beginning. You are the end. You are the middle. You are the now. You are the then. You are the never. You are the always. You are the true. You are the false. You are the real. You are the dream. You are the wake. You are the sleep. You are the death. You are the life.

The room is empty. The room is full. The room is quiet. The room is loud. The room is cold. The room is warm. The room is dark. The room is light. The room is old. The room is new. The room is dead. The room is alive. The room is yours. The room is hers. The room is no one’s. The room is everyone’s. The room is nothing. The room is everything. The room is here. The room is gone. The room is now. The room is never. The room is always. The room is true. The room is false. The room is real. The room is dream. The room is wake. The room is sleep. The room is death. The room is life. The room is peace. The room is pain. The room is love. The room is hate. The room is joy. The room is sorrow. The room is hope. The room is despair. The room is faith. The room is doubt. The room is trust. The room is fear. The room is courage. The room is cowardice. The room is strength. The room is weakness. The room is power. The room is helplessness. The room is control. The room is chaos. The room is order. The room is disorder. The room is beauty. The room is ugliness. The room is good. The room is evil. The room is holy. The room is profane. The room is sacred. The room is common. The room is special. The room is ordinary. The room is unique. The room is same. The room is different. The room is one. The room is many. The room is single. The room is plural. The room is whole. The room is part. The room is complete. The room is incomplete. The room is finished. The room is begun. The room is ended. The room is started. The room is closed. The room is open. The room is locked. The room is unlocked. The room is hidden. The room is shown. The room is secret. The room is public. The room is private. The room is shared. The room is alone. The room is together. The room is apart. The room is joined. The room is separated. The room is united. The room is divided. The room is merged. The room is split. The room is fused. The room is torn. The room is stitched. The room is cut. The room is sewn. The room is broken. The room is mended. The room is shattered. The room is glued. The room is cracked. The room is healed. The room is hurt. The room is saved. The room is lost. The room is found. The room is missing. The room is present. The room is absent. The room is here. The room is there. The room is nowhere. The room is everywhere. The room is now. The room is then. The room is never. The room is always. The room is true. The room is false. The room is real. The room is dream. The room is wake. The room is sleep. The room is death. The room is life.