I live inside a glass snow-globe. Particles of ices fill the edges; snow moves with the wind creating magical deposits on the crystalline walls of my restricted world. Snowdrift—big, fluffy flakes swirl and jump; they go up and down rapidly, like miniature Ping-Pong balls; each competing against each other, as if in the quest to find new and better designs of themselves… new patterns, new forms—to set a record in time?
And outside this goblet where dwells my spirit lays the Great Unknown. The vastness of an emptied sky assembled in ice and grayness so thick it deprives the eye from its ability to focus, and thus, it is not able to distinguish whether the bird outside its scope is a Horned Lark, or perhaps a Black-billed Magpie of a solitary traveler—like me, in this sallow world of icy jumping cottons, attempting to interpret life outside our snow-globe world.
Is it really someone out there—a power beyond our own in this vastness of nothingness? Or are we alone? Is there someone greater than all our fears controlling each and every one of the micro snow-globes orbiting the Universe? And have we been left to the mercies of a kind God or left we are to some capricious being who cannot, or would not, free us?
Ah, to be able to break free from the glass which imprisons our spirit…
To have a world without borders is to have faith without borders.