Bubble
machine.
Bubbles
pinching
off.
Floating
free on
creations
breeze.
Swirling
currents,
eddies
of direction,
endlessness.
Bubble after
bubble.
Percolating.
Moving away.
Deep
substrate
of existence.
Burping
up, one
to the
next.
Bubble
machine.
Infinite
iterations
of same.
Infinite
destinations,
outcomes.
Starting
when?
Unknown.
Created
how?
Unknown.
Ultimate
destination.
Unknown.
Simply
is.
- Author: John Prophet (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: August 15th, 2022 06:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Comments1
True words John, we may not ever know where we are going in life.
Andy
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.