i used to run through fields

laughing, blowing bubbles

floating up, away

off to Who-knows-where

…

now I watch the bubbles

burst, burst, burst –

dreams, illusions, hopes,

bursting into nothingness

…

time and death bursting

all our bubbles

for we are here

but for a time

…

till some child runs

again through fields

of green, blowing bubbles

that float… up and up

…

swelling, rising, not yet bursting

each bubble its own

never to be repeated self

precious beyond belief

…

while we in our old age

move toward the end of time

evaporating into eternity

returning Whence we came.

Bubble

– Gordon C. Stewart, @ 2004