A soft breath will escape my lips and become capsulated in an orb of soapy water
Floating through the air, reflecting a pure vision of the world
Looking into the clear space and laying my sober eyes on something so far from the truth
Yet, there is no lie
It's not misdirected, it's no illusion
Just the makeup of our world, in a brighter, fuller, insignificant bubble

The only thing between me and this purified plane is a translucent exoskeleton inviting any and all to pass
I'll reach my hand out to join this world with its cleanliness, hopeful for the ability to breathe in more than the current worlds polluted views and strands of withered spirits combing through my lungs
But before my arm can even fully extend itself, the tender sound that emitted from the fleeting form bore a resemblance to all the citizens of a perfect world bitterly separating their wetted lips
Confusion only wrote itself on my features for a moment as a spray of mist coated the skin of my outstretched hand

Yeah, that seems about right...

Bringing my arm back to my side, I lean back into the cushioned rocking chair
Enviously looking out the glass door beside me as my mind reflects the prior feelings of hope
But, as we all know, hope is a currency you need to spend wisely, though I've always been relatively impulsive with my purchases
A forced smile, resembling a sneer will stretch across my face as I scoff at my impudence

The span of a bubble will always be favorable compared to the span of the earth
The bubble will hold everything lightly as it accompanies the breeze, only feeling clean and happy
The second the air shifts and the thought of negativity as an encounter comes, the world of the pure takes it upon itself to disperse as much as possible
Making the dirty earth just a little cleaner while destroying itself to be sure it never follows suit in the natural ways of the filthy

My smile softens at the thought of the effortless way the pure-hearted come to their self-sacrificing resolutions
If only this world, too, was a bubble
The thought provides a small, short, glimmer in my iris

A click of my tongue dispels the thought from my head, stretching my body with a yawn
I put down the soapy wand, and wipe the sudsy residue left on my hands on the arm of the chair
Standing tall, I walk along my carpet into the kitchen


"Hmm, what should I have for breakfast?"


© Marah Schneider