The temple perched on a mossy hill, stepped with layers of stone candlelit abodes. It was an onyx winter. The galaxy breathed coldly tonight. Stepping inside, my blistered feet hugged the warmth of a marble floor. Sunlight saturated the space, but looking around, I could not find a source. The temple was walled with glass, through which distant stars could be seen. I felt tugged into the present, which unfolded brilliantly like the orange and green marblework below. The past and future now felt like planets away. Outside, looking below, shopkeepers began opening their markets for daybreak. There was a distant stirring of pots, pans, and conversations. Yet, if I tried, I could eavesdrop, every word and sound clearly resonant. The sky leaked into a sudden downpour. Thunder clapped. Colorful winds raged. I turned around to walk to the opposite window, which directly faced giant white mountains. With each step, the storm quickly softened into spring showers, until I was in the middle of the room, and could not hear it at all. I had walked for only a few minutes, but when I returned to the cliff window, it was now deep in the afternoon. The windows shattered the sunlight into rainbows. The town was now bustling, children weaving through the crowds, and workers carrying fruit baskets. My feet began to tingle, as the mountain awoke. I sat down cross-legged, and I now heard the whispering of oceans, rustling of rainforests, of distant tribal drums. Overwhelmed, with teary eyes, I closed my eyes, and my vision bloomed. I was a point accelerating on the universe’s timeline, the past and future colliding into one another. Then, it was black. It was a special type of blackness, one you can’t find by closing your eyes. On my wrist lay candlelit abodes. My feet crawled with pedestrians and carts. My head had a warmth, as I felt someone step inside.