In the wilds of this wild country. . .

Some of the thickest, deepest wilderness exists in the clearings between forests. In the open places, where saws have made room for chimneys and driveways, where finely trimmed shrubs have replaced the great oaks and the noble firs, where man has made his remorseless stamp upon the land, claimed it for himself, and made it tame and quiet and dumb.

Only the night wind's sharp whistle speaks; only the cackling leaves disturbed by rake or busy feet protest. The settlers do not hear the wind or the leaves, and they do not notice the foulness of their own waste. They live and think, cry and laugh, sing and shout, all as though the whims and confidence of their broken minds were enough to sustain them.

The most perfect order, the most imposing civilization, is not here. It is not there, beyond the chimneys. It is not in the image of Earth; nowhere can it be found. There are riches to be had, and more forests to set ablaze. There are other clearings where human prey may be found waiting for purpose just as the predators who sleep a mile's leap away dream one night of acquisition, of enlargement, of taking and wanting and setting up great sculptures of themselves in place of their brothers and sisters nearby.

And there are the vast in-betweens, where life itself springs up out of the land and exhales the precious air that men turn hot and useless with their angry tongues. It is here where the trees still dwell beneath the skies, communing in a natural harmony with the birds and the rain.

But all of it is wilderness, no matter how wild or tame, when we consider its utter powerlessness. Every part depends upon another. The trees' sweet fruit and sugary sap are of no use, no beauty, if they cannot be consumed by beings constituted with enough sense to enjoy them. Yet those same beings cannot breathe if not for the tireless work of the trees, the soil, the sky. Each part has its place, but only in relation to the others. None is of use, and indeed none has life, if left to itself, to exist in isolation. And for men this is also true.

But even the bonds which draw together the life on Earth, which make up such a timeless interdependency and community, are not in themselves valuable or powerful. They exert nothing beyond themselves. The Earth seems to be nothing but a well-organized sphere of water and soil and men and beasts. And it is all wild, all independent of meaning.

We all by our nature inhabit an unknown, a deeply disturbing darkness. Those with minds to think have thought, though they have not discovered the purpose that they are certain has to be. Surely there must be a power beyond the trees, beyond even the mind. Surely there must be civilization beyond the wilds of this wild country.