This old treasure, I keep it close. I’ve felt the tremendous weight of it and the wonder of the figures who are preserved in memory, ever-changing in the realms beyond. Every little bit of white that falls to the bottom is special. As I write this I look through my window at the first storm of the season and find myself a little confused as to who, exactly, is in the snow globe.
Was it me? Was it you? Who is holding on to us?
Have you heard the one about the spiritual war, the battle for love that goes on at the other end of the universe? It is the only thing that has ever been too far away… the only secret that I have been unable to fill with enough light to prevent it from turning dark and costly to anyone who carries it in their heart.
I felt something the other day that traveled over many miles.
It sounded like a cry for help, or maybe I just reacted that way. Help, one of us has gone astray.
And it hurt, like it always had. Like that pretty snow globe slipped through your hands and crashed onto your bare feet. Sad. Mad. Broken.
But I kept thinking about it and I realized that such chapters at the other end of the universe are not so easily hammered out. Something so epic is not going to be crushed without a million comets colliding.
It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s only the land between. People have been occupying it for a very long time. I wouldn’t worry too much about the nonsense out there.
The longest distance you could ever go would be across every stream, over every mountain until you were somehow here. So do not worry. Should the impossible ever happen at the end of it all,
I will simply point the way.