A New World

At night, I am on stage surrounded by jewels. I dance to my chosen music. The jewels interchange; the lid closes. I will be in silent darkness for a few minutes, perhaps days. The light will not arrive and the music will not play until the lady of the house wishes to trade her trinkets once more. The life of a music box ballerina, I muse, a prisoner in a strange world. Returning the box to its shelf, my mind returns back to my own reality as a kept person in an enclosed atmosphere. “A New Atlantis in the New York Style” headlines the papers. We are a city enveloped by a water world with no sun, no stars to wish upon.

At first, we thought New York was the only city to survive. Having prepared for our fate early on, a retractable dome loomed about us, one, which might never open again. We live in an all-encompassing fishbowl; the dark waters replacing the sky blue we knew so well.

But all that will change, for me anyway. Standing at the departures desk, perusing the sky-sub schedule, it didn’t take me long to find my new home. I stare at the words: Venezia, ETD: 18:00.

Taking my seat, I think of this least likely city to survive. Gazing out the window of the sky-sub, we pass the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty. Keeping her company now lay statues precariously strewn about the harbor floor as if toys dropped by the hand of a distracted child, a cemetery of fallen heroes and heroines. Ever so slowly we move past these once upright, chalk-like sculptures, and I wonder how their new surroundings will change their being.

I close my eyes and soon my shuttle arrives in Venice; walking towards the station exit, I note a few steps edging into the glistening water. Each little wave emitting a glint of light as it washes up against its concrete shore. Tiny cups of water filled with radiance. Slowly, I draw my face up to what I missed for so long. Squinting, I see the sky for the first time in what seems ages. The sun extols the morning colors splashing across the skies. As I revel in the unadulterated, unfiltered, unobstructed sky, my eyes begin to tear. Laughing, I walk through the Piazzo San Marco with its kamikaze pigeons dive-bombing the plaza in the hopes of retrieving a few morsels from the croissants of by-gone lunches. Having no crumbs to redirect their traffic, I duck on their approach and run to an outdoor café to enjoy the sun, the sky and eventually the stars. The day ends with the first stars of the evening. The jewelry box lid is open; in the distance a song plays: my chosen music. The night’s jewels will soon encompass the skies, and I, in my heart, will dance among them. No more wasted wishes; they finally came true.

A New World


Joined February 2008

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