Love is Chasing Bubbles
Delicate as a soap bubble floating inevitably to the ground, a slave to gravity soon after leaving the wand, but as innocent as the child who's exhale propelled the air cavity. Optimistic like the child that dips back into the soapy water knowing he or she will spawn a new translucent ball of breath. Free & finickly as the child who chases down the lofted spheres to handpick the one that stays within reach and facilitates bliss. Soothing and liberating as the child who covets what he or she has yearned to seize. Disappointment & vexation warms over the child as the orb bursts;vanishes. Resilant & forgiving as the child who submerges the staff of hope and is relieved to forge another. Even a child will eventually learn that these globes of captured atmosphere cannot be apprehended. So is love. That is why i don't chase bubbles.
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