Lightened | The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere

Watching the bubbles rising.
Watching the bubbles uniting.
Watching the bubbles becoming.
Watching the bubbles forming
and reaching the surface, and then existing
for a fraction of a second before bursting.

The air that rises from a tall glass of beer.
The swirl that turns in a cup of cappuccino.
The drops of rain that fall in a puddle,
like the build up of emotion that generates a tear.
The spray from a wave that hits your face
when you are standing at the edge of an ocean,
on a beach, and the still excited energy
from the constant pull of the moon
keeps you swimming in the moment
that seemed to have been short-lived,
but still continues to flow.

Watching a cloud appear and grow as if from nothing.
Watching a river transition from a trickle,
to a stream, and then to a raging torrent.
Watching a sandstorm in a desert sweep and collect
infinite grains of dust that are all that remains
of a land that was once lush, living, and thriving.
Watching an entire forrest grow from a single acorn
is like seeing a new world grow, and it is so great.

Many faces, races, colours, and beliefs,
make up the natural, needed, diversity of a country and a nation.
A bucket of a billion granules of sand can build a castle
that you can easily rebuild after it inevitably crumbles.
Many nuts and bolts make up and run a machine,
and work so well in-unison, that defy explanation,
and can be a source of fascination.
A head full of troubles can feel lightened and enlightened
by a glass or a cup full of bubbles.