You stand at the edge of a quiet forest. The air is cool and smells of pine. Above you, a full moon spills silver light across the path.
Each step is soft on a bed of moss. The trees breathe with you — in, and out. Their branches sway, almost imperceptibly, in a wind you cannot feel.
Somewhere far away, an owl calls. The sound is round and warm, like a hand resting on your shoulder. You keep walking, deeper, lighter.
The path opens onto a small clearing. In its center, a still pool reflects the moon. You sit beside it. You set down everything you were carrying.
The water does not move. Your breath slows. The forest holds you, and you let it.
Good night.