Glimpse

The path ahead is carved between towering cliffs, jagged and ancient, rising sharply on either side. We walk through narrow crevasses, the rock closing in around us, twisting and turning in quiet rhythm. Light filters down in slivers. Every corner feels like a secret kept by time.

The air carries stillness. The kind that asks for silence. Each step brings us deeper into the unknown, yet something familiar pulls us forward. We have seen this place before, in photographs, in dreams, in stories passed down through the years. 

Then, through the final curve, it appears, emerging from behind the twisted opening ahead. The carved ruins of Petra. A presence that commands attention without force. Weathered by time, shaped by human hands, and standing in quiet defiance of forgetting.

This is what it means to witness something you have carried in your heart for decades. Not just to see it, but to feel it. To know you are exactly where you were meant to be, not just in place, but in time.

Moments like this remind us that some dreams are not made to fade. They are meant to be found. And remembered.