Dangerous Snowstorm Seen From Inside Looking Outside

Snow flying in many confused directions outside my window, flakes frantically trying to escape world order and structure and sensibility--thrown violently askew every which way in anxiety, blown about by God's windy breath.

All falling downward--nothing moving upward that does not come down--down to simplicity, humility--no individuality. Instead united in a pure white mass--typified, but not identified. Together in a group--one solid white crust of icy opaqueness.

Then there was no snow at all. The last flake disappeared and did not reappear. Finally a new moon appeared from behind a cloud and all was still.