I look at the pillows, upside down on the bed and I see where we laid in the early hours of morning, embracing, sharing our thoughts and fears of the world, and even each other. The flish flash of images overcoming us and consuming us in an involuntary progression- and we want to cry for the world and us…but we don’t. We just hurt.
We’ve built a bubble though, and it’s a shiny beautiful bubble with pink and blue distorted images and you and I live there in this bubble we’ve built. But we know bubbles are temporary objects. They float up and around and over and under until they explode and fall. and we are afraid. For we have come to know that this is an inevitable fact of life. From a child’s first breath through the bubble wand he knows this is how it will be. But we also learned in those tender years, that although your bubble bursts and goes away, you can make more bubbles and more bubbles until your breath is gone or your bubble juice runs out.
Just another piece about love and fear. Written in the way back.