I dreamt I stood on ground the color of dusk, where shadows stretched long and thin like forgotten memories. Before me, a great stone gateway, carved by wind and time, held the last of the sun's golden fire. It presided over a perfectly still lake, a mirror to a sky without clouds. From the water, a single ancient stump rose, a monument to what was, and from its heart, impossibly, a new tree grew, its leaves reaching for the light pouring through the arch. It was a place outside of time, where the mountains on the horizon had held their breath for eons, watching this quiet miracle of rebirth unfold in the silent, amber water.
