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She is a lock without a key. A puzzle, a solveless mystery. You can’t touch her. She wants you to. But you can’t touch her. She is not what lies beyond the door. She is the doorway.

Was she ever as bad as her dreams imply? Yes, she wearily believes, yes. She feels the weight of all that badness, crushing her heart. The loving death-grip of the shadow. All that terrible stuff. She’s a haunted castle, this one.

She lives in the spaces of life. She finds those moments; sees them with a startling clarity, slips into them. Afternoon shifts toward evening, the night comes on, shadow fillsthe spaces left by retreating light.

She is in another place, altogether.

Is there anything that can live forever in a moment such as this? Is this what she has forsaken?

This is the place where faeries dwell. And angels. And those who have fallen, and are left outside. Those who have fallen must find their own way back. Or at least find the spaces to slip into, the moments that ought to last forever, but don’t.

Somewhere, this key must unlock something.

Not all of her dreams are of badness. Some of them are of Home. She supposes those are memories, too. Perhaps not even her own, any more than all of this will belong to whoever remembers it. Nothing but the endless Wheel. If that’s so, she thinks, then Home must be at the very center.

Do you begin to remember as you get closer? She feels so very far away. The weight of her badness is crushing her. Has she known, felt, all of this before? If there is a road back, that road travels through shadow, through darkness. But here is what she has come to know: not dark as bad, not dark as evil... but dark as the shadows within, dark as the secret self kept even from the self. This is what she is beginning to understand. The dark path is going to the edge of the abyss and gazing within, and embracing the shadow and holding judgement - even self-judgement - in abeyance. And that may well be the most difficult task of them all.

I am a lock without a key. I am a puzzle. A mystery. You can’t touch me; that’s my fate. You can’t touch me. I want you to. But you can’t. This is why I must walk the Dark Way.

I was damned before I was born





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