vaneramos | Garden of fire

I journeyed across plains carrying all necessities on my back. The land grew increasingly dry. Food became scarce. But another pilgrim had told me I must behold the desert. One morning I mounted a crest and sand opened below, singing distantly. I held my breath.

A man, barely older than me, sat cross-legged nearby, gazing patiently as if he possessed eternity. I joined him. Light filled me and I fell into a trance.

Hours passed before he spoke: "It's terrifying, but if you persevere, it nourishes your heart."

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Twenty-one years. I have a tent nearby. The desert can be deadly, but you should attempt crossing. I did, coming finally to the valley of the garden of fire. It blossomed, burned within without killing, and was the most lonely experience imaginable. It's said that walking there with a friend would be entirely different, but no one has dared accompany me."

He looked at me and I saw a reflection of fire flowers. His eyes brimmed with utter abandonment of self, blending body and thoughts. I fluttered on the brink.

Then he released me. I peered in amazement at the sand, considering my path.