I stood in that corridor, the figure's words echoing in my mind, and something shifted inside me. I'd been running—down stairs, through caverns, across stars—not from a spirit or a thought, but from the moment itself. I'd been afraid of what it held, of its weight, its power. But as I faced the darkness, I saw it differently, like a child sees a shadow: not as fear, but as a mystery to explore.
This journey, from the endless steps to the cosmic void, was a gift—a chance to feel the pulse of now. The green glow of the cavern, the shifting stars, the pale figure's warning—they weren't threats, but invitations to be present, to choose, to live with the curiosity that makes every moment alive. I'd stumbled, fallen, and risen, not because I was fearless, but because I was here, fully here, in this fleeting, miraculous now.
I don't know where this path leads next, but I know this: the now is enough. It's a spark, a star, a heartbeat. Run toward it, not away. Let your heart be open, your eyes wide, your spirit adventurous. Like a child chasing fireflies, seize this moment, and you'll find the wonder that makes life a miracle. I'm stepping forward now, and I invite you to do the same.