Answer:
I am the place where yesterday is always before today. What am I?
I have a name written on me, but it isn’t my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I am a small paradise surrounded by dryness and heat.
I am flora, not fauna. I am foliage, not trees. I am shrubbery, not grass. What am I?
I can be written, I can be spoken, I can be exposed, I can be broken. What am I?
I saw the dead bring forth the living. I saw the living bring forth the dead. What did I see?