I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.

Berry, Wendell ‘The Peace of Wild Things’

My time with you is nearly finished. Our journey is almost done. Next week will find us at the end of this series and our ways will part. But not yet. Not quite yet. There is still one more place that I must show you, a place that is infinitely precious to me.

Right now it is raining outside. It is not the happy tinkle of water of which I wrote earlier. Nor is it the cruel slashing of a bitter rain, driven by harsh winds. No, it is the drizzle of melancholy. The skies lie oppressive above me, pressing down, squeezing the life and joy from me. And it is the same with Alyria. I have wrapped my world in clouds, both literally and figuratively. Everywhere you look, there is pain and heartache, melancholy and tragedy. The dragons bring torture to the land. The Outsiders threaten to consume all. Even the humans of Alyria seem hell-bent on destroying themselves. The Citadel takes men and makes them machines. The Web conceals life but cannot let it thrive. The Ark places its own survival first, even ahead of its own citizens. The Blessed and Misbegotten suffer torment, and the Restored stagger through the world, not quite living but never quite dying. Horror surrounds us on every side.

And that is why I find the Garden so precious.

No one really knows what the Garden is. The Keepers try to study it, but in vain. The dragons wish to destroy it, but they cannot find it. It is nowhere, and it is everywhere. Many have quested to find the Garden but have returned empty-handed. But to the helpless, to the needy, to the wounded, it is near. It matters not where you are. The next alleyway, the next steam tunnel, the third tree from the right, all could be the entrance to the Garden. It has appeared even on the Sea of Mist itself to offer comfort and solace to those who need it. You cannot find the Garden; it must find you.

Come with me one last time. We shall not walk together again in Alyria, and I would not want you to miss seeing this. Come with me, come into the Garden.

All is light here in the Garden. Soft grass and beautiful trees spread in all directions. Gentle animals meander through the thickets and drink from the crystal water. In the distance a fountain speaks its watery voice, spreading a giddy joy. Here by the stream, the rustle of the leaves and the babble of water mix in a symphony of joy. The sky is clear and bright, a blue so intense that it almost hurts to see it. Not a cloud mars that intense blue, nor does the sun drown it out, for there is no sun. Certainly there is light, but it is everywhere. Perhaps the very air is luminescent, as everything seems to glow with an inner light. Here there is peace. Here there is joy.

Come, sit by the stream. Yes, you see them, too. Those are the Ones who Wait. They pass silently through the Garden, clad in white robes, ministering to those who are brought here. Some need healing, and it is given. Others need comfort, and they are given a shoulder to cry on and good counsel. Others simply need to gaze on the beauty of the Garden, and they are left to themselves to watch in wonder at the beauty that surrounds them.

I could stay here forever, but I know that I cannot. Eventually the Garden will fade away and we will be left precisely where we left, with the taste of Paradise on our tongues and the songs of Paradise fading in our ears. For now is not the time to rest. We are given this taste so that we can return to the world that awaits us. And yet, the legend says that one day the Garden will come to rest and it will spread across the land. The pain and ugliness, the death and the mourning, the hatred and the bloodshed will all be wiped away in a final blaze of glory as once and for all the Garden finds those for whom it was sent. As I sit here, surrounded by beauty, I cannot help but long for that day.

Look, already the sight begins to waver before our eyes. The Garden is leaving us for now. But it will be back. I know it. I know it within my heart.

We are all surrounded by hurt. We are surrounded by pain, pierced by many cares, beset by enemies on all side. The rain that falls on me falls also on you. What we need, more than anything else, is to be found by the Garden. There is peace, there is life, there is hope. And, in the darkness of our days, my deepest prayer is that, one day, the Garden would find you.