Mountains stood where they always have, unhurried by doubt, wearing the last blush of night like a secret kept only for those willing to arrive before comfort. The sky did not guarantee beauty. It offered only possibility. And still, color came— gentle, fleeting, enough. I think this is our purpose: to show up without assurance, to wait in the quiet, to let what flows teach us what endures. To remember that even when nothing is promised, light still finds its way, and so can we.