You walk.

The road is grey.

The sky is grey.

You are a scholar. You know this. You hold your diploma like a shield. It is thin. It is paper. It burns in the wind.

Your sister, Elara, walks beside you. She is smaller. She is quiet. Her eyes are wide. She does not look at the horizon. She looks at the mud.

You speak.

"We must keep moving."

She nods.

"You are safe."

She nods again.

The village is behind you. The men are in the square. They have flags. The flags are red. They shout your name. They shout it wrong. They spit on the ground where you stood.

You did not understand.

You thought you were free.

You thought knowledge was a key.

It was a lock.

The forest begins.

The trees are tall. They are dark. They lean over the path. They whisper. Not words. Just wind.

Elara stops.

She points to a rock.

There is a carving. A face. No eyes.

"It looks like you," she says.

You touch the stone. It is cold.

"It looks like everyone," you say.

You continue.

The air is thick. It smells of pine and rot.

You feel a lightness in your chest. It is not joy. It is emptiness.

You have left your books.

You have left your home.

You have left your name.

You are only a body now.

Elara takes your hand.

Her fingers are cold.

She squeezes.

You squeeze back.

This is the only language you have left.

The path splits.

You stop.

To the left, the road climbs. It leads to the city. The city has walls. The walls have gates. The gates have guards.

To the right, the path descends. It leads to the valley. The valley is open. The valley has no walls.

You look at Elara.

She looks at the valley.

"We go down," she says.

You shake your head.

"We must go up."

"Why?"

"Because we are free."

She laughs.

It is a small sound.

It is sharp.

"Free to be caught?" she asks.

You do not answer.

You look at the city.

It glimmers.

It is beautiful.

It is a cage.

You know this now.

You always knew.

You just did not want to see.

You turn to the right.

You walk down.

The slope is steep.

Your legs burn.

Elara slows.

She stumbles.

You catch her.

She is light.

She is so light.

You hold her.

She holds you.

The wind picks up.

It howls.

It sounds like a warning.

It sounds like a song.

You hear voices.

They are far away.

They are getting closer.

"You hear them?" Elara asks.

"Yes."

"They are singing."

"What are they singing?"

"The same song."

"Which song?"

"The one about the bird."

You remember.

The bird in the cage.

The bird with the golden cage.

The bird that sang so well.

The bird that broke its wing.

The bird that died in the gold.

You have been the bird.

You thought the cage was the world.

You thought the song was the freedom.

You were wrong.

The song was the chain.

The cage was the self.

You look at your hands.

They are shaking.

You look at Elara.

Her face is pale.

Her eyes are clear.

She is not afraid.

She is not angry.

She is simply there.

You are there.

The voices are louder.

You see them.

They are on the ridge.

They are not men.

They are shadows.

They have no faces.

They have no bodies.

They are only movement.

They are only sound.

They are the belief.

They are the expectation.

They are the story you told yourself.

They are coming down.

Elara lets go of your hand.

She steps forward.

She stands in the center of the path.

She opens her arms.

"You cannot take her," you shout.

Your voice is thin.

Your voice is small.

The shadows stop.

They do not move.

They do not speak.

They just watch.

Elara looks at you.

She smiles.

It is a sad smile.

It is a final smile.

"I am not here," she says.

"You are leaving," you say.

"I am becoming," she says.

She closes her eyes.

She opens her arms wider.

The wind rushes through her.

Her clothes billow.

Her hair flies.

She is not a person.

She is a shape.

She is a space.

She is the gap between the trees.

She is the silence between the words.

The shadows pass through her.

They do not touch her.

They do not see her.

She is gone.

She is not dead.

She is not alive.

She is free.

You stand alone.

The path is empty.

The road is grey.

The sky is grey.

You look at your hands.

They are still shaking.

You look at the city.

It is far away.

It is small.

It is irrelevant.

You look at the valley.

It is wide.

It is open.

It is terrifying.

You take a step.

Your foot sinks into the mud.

It is soft.

It is real.

You take another step.

Your foot sinks.

It is real.

You are free.

You are alone.

You are light.

You are heavy.

You are the bird.

You are the cage.

You are the song.

You are the silence.

You walk.

The road is long.

The sky is high.

You do not look back.

You do not look up.

You look down.

At your feet.

At the mud.

At the path.

You are here.

You are now.

You are free.

The cost is high.

The price is paid.

You carry it.

You walk.

The wind blows.

It is cold.

It is clear.

You breathe.

The air is sweet.

It is bitter.

It is yours.

You walk.

The shadows are behind you.

They are fading.

They are dissolving.

They are becoming nothing.

You are becoming something.

You are becoming no one.

You are becoming everyone.

You are becoming the road.

You are becoming the sky.

You are becoming the silence.

You are becoming the truth.

The truth is simple.

The truth is hard.

The truth is free.

You walk.

The day ends.

The night comes.

The stars come out.

They are bright.

They are cold.

They are far.

You look at them.

You see Elara.

You see her in the stars.

You see her in the wind.

You see her in the silence.

She is there.

She is everywhere.

She is free.

You are free.

You walk.

The road goes on.

The sky goes on.

The life goes on.

You are here.

You are now.

You are free.

The price is paid.

The cost is high.

The freedom is real.

The silence is deep.

The road is long.

The walk is endless.

You are walking.

You are alive.

You are free.

The end is the beginning.

The beginning is the end.

The road is the path.

The path is the life.

The life is the breath.

The breath is the song.

The song is the silence.

The silence is the freedom.

The freedom is the self.

The self is the other.

The other is the world.

The world is the void.

The void is the light.

The light is the dark.

The dark is the dawn.

The dawn is the day.

The day is the night.

The night is the star.

The star is the eye.

The eye is the soul.

The soul is the body.

The body is the mud.

The mud is the earth.

The earth is the home.

The home is the cage.

The cage is the bird.

The bird is the song.

The song is the chain.

The chain is the key.

The key is the lock.

The lock is the door.

The door is the way.

The way is the path.

The path is the road.

The road is the walk.

The walk is the life.

The life is the truth.

The truth is the free.

The free is the you.

The you is the I.

The I is the we.

The we is the all.

The all is the one.

The one is the none.

The none is the everything.

The everything is the nothing.

The nothing is the all.

The all is the free.

You walk.

You are free.

The road is grey.

The sky is grey.

You are here.

You are now.

You are free.

The end.