The Snow Globe

This snow globe vision possesses a horizon,
A thin band of gold, glinting with promise.
But the domed storm clouds are closing in,
Shaking with fury, littering the winds
With silver bullets of rain.

I take my first step towards the horizon,
Grasping with clumsy fingers every solid concept
In the dusty corners of my brain;
I am every inch the staggering, stumbling toddler.

Someone shakes up the world –
A well-educated, malevolent force –
And ashen snow scatters itself in my eyes.

I wait for the ground to right itself
And surge forwards again,
Finally falling into my rhythm now –
Regaining my balance
As someone (again)
Settles my world back down
On their marble mantelpiece.

The day is yawning before me.