All alone in this tiny shop of glass. I sit and gaze at the art around me. Everything reminding me of my not so simple past. Teacups and vases line the walls, with mirrors and china surrounding them all. Fragile lives teeter on definite edges. Sitting their life away with nothing to do but sparkle. Shine in motionless silence. Not even the air, in its multitude of moves, disturbs the quiet shop of glass. All is whole.
Life does not work this way. Nothing can sit in a suspended state. Nothing is perfect. Nothing can shine forever. It's not sane. It's simply an illusion of the world. It's misery.
All it takes is one breath. One wink. One hit. One push. One idea. One butterfly. Destruction. Devastation. Disruption. With one solid swing you can smash a shelf. Glass litters the floor. Another, and a teacup shatters. This shop collapses with a hundredth of the effort it took to build. Reflecting life, reflecting our world, the shop is destroyed. And it feels good.
So much is lost, all the work, patience, creativity. Nothing is left but chaos and confusion. Nothing makes sense. But it's only after we have lost everything that we are free to do anything. Through the dust a new world can be built. A better world. Destroy the nostalgic ties to your life and you will be free. Only after disaster can we be resurrected. Only after we erase here and now can we create our future.
Destroy your china shop and create your future from the dust. Only then will you be free.