Bubble Machine Poem by John Prophet
Bubble Machine
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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 12:01:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Bubbles, as Life, just a natural flow, that we perceive but really don't know. Magnificent poem with great meaning and deep thought.
Kind of you.