Bubble up, creativity, ingenuity and all that clamors for expression
Bubble up, the courage to build a world for myself…
Bravely, if not always wisely, walk the delicate contours of fate
What does it matter if a footprint fades, or a misstep is made…?
I draw sustenance from watching the fragile butterflies
as they drift upon currents they don’t own and can’t control
From nectar to nectar drop, their ephemeral beauty… always hopeful, brightly lit…
…and should a storm rake up destruction, or a thunder shower break their flight, death comes.
But life was lived.
In the garden…on the gently swaying flower-petal…
and that is what counts.
