The wind smells of iron and wet stone. You know it. You have always known it. It clings to your wool coat, to the leather of your gloves, to the salt-crust on your lips. You are walking. The road is old. It is older than the trees that bow their heads in the grey mist. It is older than the village you left behind three days ago. It is older, perhaps, than the name they gave you at birth. You do not remember it. That is the first thing to understand. The past is a fog. It lifts only when you stop moving.

You carry a pack. It is heavy. Inside, there is no gold. There are no jewels. There are only seeds. Thousands of them. Dried and hard as pebbles. They are acorns, but not like the ones that fall from the oaks of the lowlands. These are black. They are knotted. They smell of deep earth and decay. You are a merchant of sorts. You trade in this silence. You trade in the weight of what grows from the dark.

The path narrows. The mist thickens until it becomes a wall. You press forward. Your boots sink into the mud. It is cold. It is ancient. You feel a presence. It is not a monster. It is not a ghost. It is a feeling. It is the feeling of being watched by something that has no eyes. It is the feeling of the soil turning over in your sleep. It is the root system of the world, pulsing beneath your feet.

You stop. You must stop. To breathe. To think. You take out a seed. You hold it in your palm. It is warm. It should not be warm. It beats against your skin. A slow, rhythmic thud. Like a heart. Like yours, but slower. Deeper. You try to throw it away. You want to throw it into the mist. You want to rid yourself of this burden. This is the war you have been fighting for years. The war against the weight. The war against the knowing.

You remember your father. He was a man of few words. He spoke to the trees. He listened to the rain. He told you that the land has a memory. That it holds onto what it is given. That it never truly lets go. You thought he was mad. You thought he was afraid of the dark. You were wrong. He was not afraid. He was in love. He was in love with the cycle. With the endless, grinding, beautiful wheel of rot and bloom.

You look at the seed again. You cannot let it go. This is the cruelty. This is the trap. You want to conquer it. You want to break the chain. You want to be free of the debt. You have walked for miles to find a place where the wind is still. A place where the soil is dead. A place where nothing can grow. You believe that if you plant the seeds there, the cycle will end. You believe you can kill the future. You believe you can silence the voice in the ground.

The mist parts. You see a clearing. It is small. It is circular. In the center, there is a stump. It is black. It is smooth. It has no bark. It looks like a finger pointing up to the sky. You walk to it. Your legs are tired. Your mind is tired. You feel the pull. The magnetic, desperate pull of the earth.

You open the pack. The seeds spill out. They roll onto the dead grass. They look like black pearls. Like tears of ink. You kneel. You dig with your hands. The soil is dry. It is pale. It offers no resistance. It is empty. It is void. You make a hole. You place a seed in the center. You cover it. You pat the dirt down. You wait.

Nothing happens.

You wait longer. The sun begins to set. The light turns to amber. Then to blood. Then to shadow. You are alone. You are the only thing that moves in this place. You are the only thing that thinks. You are the only thing that suffers.

You feel a vibration. It is faint. It is in the soles of your feet. It is in your teeth. It is in the marrow of your bones. The ground is shaking. Not with violence. With intention. With hunger. You look at the hole. The dirt is moving. It is rising. It is forming a shape.

A root emerges. It is white. It is thick. It is wet. It wraps around your wrist. You try to pull away. You cannot. The root is strong. It is cold. It is alive. It pulls you down. You fall to your knees. The dirt is soft now. It is warm. It is welcoming.

You see your father. He is standing in the mist. He is not old. He is young. He is smiling. He is holding a seed. He is not holding a pack. He is not carrying a burden. He is light. He is free. He looks at you with pity. With love. With the terrible, obsessive love of a parent who knows the truth.

He does not speak. He does not need to. He points to the ground. He points to your heart.

You understand.

You thought you were the merchant. You thought you were the one who carried the goods. You were wrong. You are the goods. You are the seed. You have always been the seed. The pack is not full of seeds. The pack is empty. You are the thing that grows. You are the thing that roots. You are the thing that returns.

The root tightens. You do not pull anymore. You stop fighting. You stop trying to conquer. You stop trying to escape. You accept the weight. You accept the cycle. You accept the debt.

The mist closes in. The world fades. The only thing that is real is the pull. The only thing that is true is the return.

You are not dying. You are waking up.

You are the tree.

The wind smells of iron and wet stone.

You are walking.

The road is old.

You know it.

You have always known it.

The seed beats against your skin.

Like a heart.

Like yours.

But slower.

Deeper.

You are not alone.

You were never alone.

The earth is full of people.

The earth is full of fathers.

The earth is full of sons.

The earth is full of love.

The earth is full of death.

The earth is full of life.

The earth is full of you.

You close your eyes.

You let go.

You become the soil.

You become the dark.

You become the silence.

And then, you become the bloom.

The sun rises.

The mist lifts.

The clearing is empty.

The stump is gone.

In its place, there is a sapling.

It is green.

It is bright.

It is new.

It reaches for the sky.

It reaches for the light.

It reaches for the truth.

It is beautiful.

It is terrible.

It is inevitable.

The wind moves through its leaves.

It sounds like a whisper.

It sounds like a name.

It sounds like yours.

It sounds like his.

It sounds like all of us.

The cycle turns.

The wheel turns.

The debt is paid.

The price is everything.

The gain is nothing.

The love is infinite.

The pain is eternal.

You are the road.

You are the traveler.

You are the destination.

You are the end.

You are the beginning.

You are the faded road.

You are the constant.

You are the truth.

You are the lie.

You are the silence.

You are the voice.

You are the seed.

You are the tree.

You are the root.

You are the sky.

You are the earth.

You are the wind.

You are the rain.

You are the storm.

You are the calm.

You are the past.

You are the future.

You are the now.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the here.

You are the there.

You are the between.

You are the within.

You are the without.

You are the self.

You are the other.

You are the one.

You are the many.

You are the whole.

You are the part.

You are the shadow.

You are the light.

You are the dark.

You are the bright.

You are the cold.

You are the warm.

You are the dry.

You are the wet.

You are the hard.

You are the soft.

You are the sharp.

You are the dull.

You are the fast.

You are the slow.

You are the loud.

You are the quiet.

You are the high.

You are the low.

You are the deep.

You are the shallow.

You are the wide.

You are the narrow.

You are the long.

You are the short.

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 life.

You are the death.

You are the birth.

You are the end.

You are the start.

You are the middle.

You are the edge.

You are the center.

You are the outside.

You are the inside.

You are the front.

You are the back.

You are the left.

You are the right.

You are the up.

You are the down.

You are the in.

You are the out.

You are the on.

You are the off.

You are the yes.

You are the no.

You are the maybe.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the soon.

You are the late.

You are the early.

You are the late.

You are the soon.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the here.

You are the there.

You are the now.

You are the then.

You are the when.

You are the where.

You are the who.

You are the what.

You are the why.

You are the how.

You are the who.

You are the me.

You are the we.

You are the they.

You are the it.

You are the is.

You are the are.

You are the was.

You are the were.

You are the will be.

You are the have been.

You are the are being.

You are the have being.

You are the will have been.

You are the will be being.

You are the are being being.

You are the have been being.

You are the will have been being.

You are the infinite.

You are the finite.

You are the endless.

You are the ended.

You are the begun.

You are the unbegin.

You are the unend.

You are the unbeginning.

You are the unending.

You are the beginning.

You are the ending.

You are the middle.

You are the edge.

You are the whole.

You are the part.

You are the shadow.

You are the light.

You are the dark.

You are the bright.

You are the cold.

You are the warm.

You are the dry.

You are the wet.

You are the hard.

You are the soft.

You are the sharp.

You are the dull.

You are the fast.

You are the slow.

You are the loud.

You are the quiet.

You are the high.

You are the low.

You are the deep.

You are the shallow.

You are the wide.

You are the narrow.

You are the long.

You are the short.

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 life.

You are the death.

You are the birth.

You are the end.

You are the start.

You are the middle.

You are the edge.

You are the center.

You are the outside.

You are the inside.

You are the front.

You are the back.

You are the left.

You are the right.

You are the up.

You are the down.

You are the in.

You are the out.

You are the on.

You are the off.

You are the yes.

You are the no.

You are the maybe.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the soon.

You are the late.

You are the early.

You are the late.

You are the soon.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the here.

You are the there.

You are the now.

You are the then.

You are the when.

You are the where.

You are the who.

You are the what.

You are the why.

You are the how.

You are the who.

You are the me.

You are the we.

You are the they.

You are the it.

You are the is.

You are the are.

You are the was.

You are the were.

You are the will be.

You are the have been.

You are the are being.

You are the have being.

You are the will have been.

You are the will be being.

You are the are being being.

You are the have been being.

You are the will have been being.

You are the infinite.

You are the finite.

You are the endless.

You are the ended.

You are the begun.

You are the unbegin.

You are the unend.

You are the unbeginning.

You are the unending.

You are the beginning.

You are the ending.

You are the middle.

You are the edge.

You are the whole.

You are the part.

You are the shadow.

You are the light.

You are the dark.

You are the bright.

You are the cold.

You are the warm.

You are the dry.

You are the wet.

You are the hard.

You are the soft.

You are the sharp.

You are the dull.

You are the fast.

You are the slow.

You are the loud.

You are the quiet.

You are the high.

You are the low.

You are the deep.

You are the shallow.

You are the wide.

You are the narrow.

You are the long.

You are the short.

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 life.

You are the death.

You are the birth.

You are the end.

You are the start.

You are the middle.

You are the edge.

You are the center.

You are the outside.

You are the inside.

You are the front.

You are the back.

You are the left.

You are the right.

You are the up.

You are the down.

You are the in.

You are the out.

You are the on.

You are the off.

You are the yes.

You are the no.

You are the maybe.

You are the never.

You are the always.

You are the soon.

You are the late.

You are the early.

You are the late.

You are the soon.

You are the never.

You are the always.