Fields of snow. Information. Energy.
You go outside among falling flakes. In search of something you can’t find at home.
It’s crystalline and alluring.
Along your search, you find strange and wonderful things. All so fascinating.
It’s enlightening, this whitening of the mind. You’ve never seen this world and wonder what life was without it.
You are walking among faster-falling snow now.
You don’t know this, but it’s been days. Maybe years. Who cares! You’re on to something out here.
Wait: what happened? It’s all white and piled around you.
Those little bits accumulated, and you are covered white. Where are you? What are you doing here?
It occurs to you. You set out into a snow storm. You’re overloaded in snow.
Your steps go only so far now. This can’t keep up.
You need a way to dry and clear land. A new field.
Ahead: you see them. Little blue birds linked along a high branch.
Each culling flakes of snow with their beaks, tossing them among each other.
Playful, intelligent avians.
They come and go from different parts of the sky.
And it occurs to you: these little tweeters lighten the burden.
Maybe if you follow them to the land from where they bring their sparkling flakes, you’ll be saved.
You won’t have to worry about the snowdrifts. No more overload.
You’ll have just the right flakes.
It’s all better now. You see the way out of the snow storm.
And as you step and step home, you follow some of those blue birds – they know the way.
Look – there’s more! So you follow them too. Because they’re helpful.
You’re under a flock of blue tweeters, each tweeting among falling white flakes.
The rows of the field are neat.
And now, those flakes which fell from tiny beaks start piling around you. Deja vu.
It’s all white again. Those neat rows are vanished. Where did they go?
Where are you?
Home! Where is home?
In the back of your head is the thought that you’re living an allegory for some future electronic world you read about in high school.
Never mind. Just a flickering mind-flame. It’s out now, from the wind. Keep going.
What are you doing out here?
Home! Where is home?
Why did you leave? What was it for? Did you find it?
It’s been years and all you want now is red wine, a warm fire and a window.
You realize: heaven is the sound of one lone blue bird, tweeting sweetly – just past that window, frosted with snow.
Your friend! Your lover! Where did they go?
Out there – among bluenesses and whitenesses.
Can you see them?
Will you follow? Or block yourself in and stay?