Bubbles
I think of life as a bubble. Moving around gracefully in the sea of destiny. Sometimes they are colorful. Sometimes they stick together. And sometimes they are, Just alone...... Separated from the big group. Like a little miracle of air in the vastness of the ocean. A bubble dances all the way to the top. Always moving always changing. Always following an unpredictable course. Such is life, And at any second, It pops and disappears. As fragile as a little bubble. Our existence vanishes. They say that to die, The only thing it takes is to be alive. You never know how a bubble is going to be. What shape it is going to take. But you can be sure it will pop eventually. And what comes after? Is that really all there is? What is so special about the living anyway?