Eyes open slowly, painstakingly. The first rays of the rising sun spill across the swamp, bringing the landscape to vibrant, bright life. Color spills forth, a million different hues revealed by the retreating darkness. The cheerful song of a bird seems to invite you to wake up, to come out and play...to revel with it in the daylight. The meadow is emerald, with wildflowers sprinkled playfully amongst the green stalks; playful dabs of color.
And yet you hesitate, something teasing at the back of your consciousness, a niggling sense of something...forgotten. You hesitate, and a second bird's song joins the first, distracting, as if to pull you free from the mire of your own sluggish thoughts. A moment passes, then two, and you wonder what this lingering thought is, and is it really important? Worth keeping you here, when the very swamp is inviting you out to play, to frolic in the new day?
You take one hesitant step forward, then another, before kicking up your feels, dashing between two massive tree trunks, lost in the moment, your intent forgotten in the beauty around you. In the meadow, left behind, a small mark, made in the base of a giant tree trunk lies forgotten, a testament to one who'd come before...the story you'd come to try to remember, passed down to you from another nothing but a distant memory...a fading thought, lost on the breeze.