The Garden of the Elder Gods

It was midnight, in the ancient palace garden. The moon was full, and the sky was cloudy. it was a place that hadn't had visitors for quite some time. In the ancient garden, stood a newborn god, under the light of the moon. He was looking at something, all the way across the world (for the eyes of the young are bright and keen, especially when they belong to a god) where the tallest mountain on Earth made its home. These were the days when the world was wild, and there was a lot of work to do. For it was up to this particular god to build a castle on this mountain, for all the other gods to come and live in. The origins of this palace and its garden were unknown even to the god. They were relics of an older time, an older pantheon, a primal and more savage one. Its walls were made of thunder, and its ceiling made with the firmaments of the night sky. Its cathedral was the deep and solemn forest, where a swarthy race of something akin to men had muttered chants to idols, back before the new Sun had been born, and the old one was still dying. No one knew where the old gods had gone, but their ancient presences still held sway. The shapes of their faces were alien, and foreboding, but no one could doubt that what they had built was magnificent. The god knew that to outdo these giants of the past, he would have to come up with something remarkable. The god reflected on the serenlty of the garden that surrounded him, and he commenced to dreaming up a plan. He plucked a faraway star from another galaxy(who was not making use of it anyway), and placed it on his mountaintop to serve as his foundation. He chose clouds to build his floor. He borrowed a few rings from Saturn, twisted them together, and made the most beautiful spiraled towers that the world will ever know. He layered them between the everchanging flow of time, and built towering walls about them with mighty ocean waves, which he held in place with the winds of the Four Corners, the sternest and the strongest winds on Earth. Winds are indeed tremendously powerful, but they're notorious for not standing still. So he held them in place, by pinning them with comets to the stars. All about, he dressed it, in a proud and radiant fire. Finally, on the edge of the castle, he began to build a bridge over to Heaven, so that all the other gods would have a pleasant crossing. This he fashioned from the Mountains of the Moon, all lined up in a row. He wrought a lovely latticework, stitched with slivers of raw lightning. And he fastened it, deftly into place, across the linear and liquid Mountains of the Moon. On this, the gods were meant to wildly dance, in the manner of gods, as they travel the universe between worlds. It was a city worthy of gods. And so, satisfied with his creation, he rested. The next morning, he awoke, from a long and fitful slumber. Even gods need a good rest, from time to time. He stretched out his arms towards his father, the glowing Sun in the sky, and he looked out at the foundations he had built. In the center of the castle, there was a courtyard. In the center of the courtyard, the Fountain of Youth was forever gushing forth, in rivulets made of rainbows. So far as the god could make out, it was now lacking only for a perfect garden, surrounding the eternal Fountain that never rests, as it bubbles and ripples through the textures of time. The god could not help being reminded of the garden of the ancient ones, in which he had conceived his dream. He coveted again the cunning and ingenuity of its makers, and wondered at their purpose. That night, as he slept, he dreamed that the old gods had come to him, and spoken terribly words shaped by lips and tongue of stone. The next day, the god awoke, and went about the completing of his task. He called forth horses made of the ocean, and hitched them to a chariot of thunderbolts, and rode them back across the world to the ancient garden of the old gods. In the daylight, he clearly saw what had been all but invisible in the darkness of the forest- the abundant and arboreal Tree of Wisdom. The god knew at once that he had found what he had come for. His plan was to transplant the magnificent old tree, back across the world, to a new home. This was to be in his garden, right next to the Fountain of Youth. That appeared to be a very good plan. For to replenish the Tree of Wisdom with the Fountain of Youth, would be to grant wisdom to the young. And that would be a combination so strong, that even Death would have no dominion over it. For all the might of Death, it is nonetheless subordinate to Time, because Time has got unstoppable Age working for it. The old gods had figured out a way to exclude both from this particular garden. No one knew where the old gods had gone. But the garden they had left behind was timeless. The god dismounted from his chariot. He stood in front of the endless and mighty Tree of Wisdom. Looking up, he could see that its trunk shot up miles into the sky, up through the canopy of stars. It was farther away than any eyes could hope to make out, even the eyes of a newborn god. Looking down, he peered with keen interest through the very Earth itself. There, he could see that the mighty Tree of Wisdom was rooted very deeply into its bones. Clearly, to uproot it would be to uproot the whole world as well, and of course that would not do. Even a god cannot put something back together again, once it has been broken. The god could see that he faced a dilemma. How could he get the Tree of Wisdom to the Fountain of Youth, without destroying the world? This was a very serious problem, and it required a great deal of thought. So the god sat down, with his back to the Tree of Knowledge, and began to meditate calmly. Soon enough, he felt his third eye begin to open, and through it he saw something new. Way down deep, in the bottom of the earth, the tree roots had formed a small hollow. In it, like a baby in its mother's womb,was the slumbering soul of the Earth, a small but radiant being. He was made of a sort of sentient starlight, and we shall find out more about him, later in our tale. He was nestled snugly in this cozy hollow of roots, peacefully as you please. The god decided he had better look for a different solution. Should he somehow find a way to disentangle the sleepy Earth Spirit from the roots of the venerable tree? Then, it could still be brought to the city on the mountain, that the god had created to house the other inhabitants of Paradise. This, the god wanted to do without having to cause the ground beneath to crumble away, into the hungry void that lives below Hell and above Heaven. What then to do with the Earth Spirit? This seemed to be his home, after all, and something was telling the god not to damage him. It would have been unkind, after all, to destroy the little fellow's home. It is always horrible when the strong use their power unkindly. The newborn god was wonderfully strong. And the strong are always kind. Bringing wisdom across the world in any amount, is not easy for most of us. So it stands to reason, that bringing all the wisdom in the world, from one side of it to the other, was not easy either, even for a god. And this one was getting frustrated. It was starting to seem impossible, to relocate this stubborn old Tree of Wisdom(which was really a world of its own, you know, but that is a story for another tale) from its peaceful spot in the garden of the elder gods. The old tree was very fond of its spot, and did not care to move from it. He had seen the likes of this take place before. So to protect him, from the whims and caprices of gods, he was fond of wearing a cloak, made of ivy and twilight. He was really hardly noticeable behind it. As you might expect, the source of all wisdom in the universe had a good sense of style. Now, gods live on for a very long time. A very long time indeed. So long, in fact, that if you were to take all the men in the world who had ever lived, and piled all their lives one atop another, it would still not be enough to equal the life of even a sickly god. Still, a very long time is not forever. Even a god is not immortal. And nothing that is mortal, can ever hope to contain all the infinite paths of wisdom. Knowing this, the kindly old tree stretched his shoulders out, and yawned, and decided to take pity on the stultified and downhearted young god. The old and wise understand that the young are easily discouraged without proper guidance from their elders. Having lived forever, he had learned to understand quite a bit. The Tree of Wisdom was the only creature in all creation that would never, ever die. He had managed the trick by existing in this very moment, forever. Since the textures of Time are a series of moments, moments are naturally free from time. To be free from time is to be immortal, of course. The Tree of Wisdom had a great many roots. In addition to the ones gently cradling the somnolent spirit of earth, the system of his roots comprised the entire universe. And not just one universe, but innumerable millions of them. An infinite web of universes. On the far end of one of them, was our very own planet Earth, which was also his home. A being of such high antiquity as the Tree of Wisdom did not need to eat or drink. However, to live for all eternity with no food or water did not seem very pleasant, all the same. And trees drink water and eat food through their roots. The Tree of Wisdom had long liked to take his drinks, from an underground river made of pure and lilting light, that one of these roots had found. It happened to flow downward from a very great height at the top of the world's tallest mountain. Of course, its source was the neverending Fountain of Youth. It had been happily flowing steadily, bubbling and rippling through our entire story, onward and forward through forever. It was thus and then, that the tree and the god and the Spirit of the Earth, all happened to have the same dream. It was the greatest dream ever dreamed. The dream that all others are but a tiny fragment of. The dream that every one of us is having now. When he awoke from it, the god stood up. He hitched the horses of ocean to the chariot of thunderbolts, and headed home satisfied to greet the other gods. Having found the perfect spot for the Tree of Wisdom, he flew back once more to his new city, contented forever with his masterpiece.