Sunday Evening Art Gallery — Bubbles

I’m forever blowing bubbles

Pretty bubbles in the air

They fly so high, nearly reach the sky

Then like my dreams they fade and die

 

 

When you look at a bubble, what do you see?  Do they reflect reality? They are ethereal. Like a thought. A kiss. A memory.

 

 

 

 

 

They exist for only a moment. Yet resonate in our memory long after.

 

 

They make us wonder: What did I just see?

 

 

 

The possibilities are endless. You ask — is it real? Does it matter?

 

 

 

Are they reflections of our existence? A moment out of a million? A billion? Out of a nanosecond?

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t matter if their existence makes a difference in the world. A difference in my life, or yours. All that matters is they are beautiful. Fleeting. They float on air. And for the briefest of moments, they exist.

 

 

As do we.