Life in a snow globe


A cloud hovers over my head. An earthquake shakes our ground. Time to hold on tight.

I hold on to my building like there’s no tomorrow. After all, there may not be.

The snow starts to lift off the ground. Time for the beauty of the world to be released.

A blizzard fills the air. Wind blows all around, threatening to blow the flags off their metal posts.

Finally, the earthquake stops. The wind dies down, and the only thing left to show for the disruption in our life is the snow softly drifting to the ground. The calm after the storm.

We release our death grips on our strongholds, but we stay in slow motion, peacefully taking in the surrounding beauty.

Soft pattering arrives as the flakes build a layer of snow for us to play in.

The final flakes drift and swirl around the city. The magic finishes, and the city resumes.

The earthquakes come and go throughout the months. More and more come as the world gets colder, but, occasionally, they shake our world at other times.

Other than the earthquakes, we live in our city. We can travel to different buildings and walk around, but whenever we try to reach out to the next door city, we run into a wall.

The exotic lands around us are just outside our grasp. The closest we can get is looking across at them. We yell, but we can’t embrace each other.

The magic finishes, and the city resumes.

The city is fine, though. There are a variety of things to do. We can still observe the clouds and the rest of the outside world, but the invisible wall breaches the ability to run into that world.

Then again, that wall keeps us safe. It saves us from the dangers of the world.

However hard we try to run at the wall, it never works. The glass is our barrier of exploration, yet it’s our blanket of safety.

In a way, I am thankful for that invisible wall I keep trying to pass through.