Bubbles

I never quite understand

The climax of life.

I imagine sometimes,

How does it feel to die?

I think death is a giant Bubble maker

It sucks the life out and makes bubbles from it

Bubbles of different colours

The colour of the bubble

is the colour of our soul

Red, blue, green,

Black, white, grey

Multi-coloured and colourless.

The soul is entrapped in it

And we float in the void

Multiple bubbles

For millions of years

We don’t bump into each other

We are just afloat, asleep

And when we are ready

The bubble breaks

And we slide into another bubble: the womb

Again float for nine months

And when we are re-born

The colour of our bubble

Assumes our character.

And once again the cycle starts

Only to end in a bubble

And To begin again.