Concentric Bubbles

First, it is our task to find out where we are, and that is after we discover we are bubble men, and frantic at the moment to escape each one and gain the next outside to taste its succulence, the fairmade bubble girl who surely will abide behind our lucid, bubbly wall. Lucid, it may be, but not the kind of light that we might follow readily, for each thin barrier may yield, but to spirit fists that form alone with spirit fire, dissolve with spirit wisdom, gained from a compassionate desire and then we pass on through. We arrive inside the bubble that we coveted, discovering our bubble maid, already hammering the wall that trembles underneath her blows to take her into bubble number three... and so it goes... How many more? A score or so; we creatures of the bubble word may only just perceive our mission. Yes, compassion is the navigator when each bubble breaks and gives us yet another one to hammer on... It is apparent, this transparent bubbly, spirit universe in which we make our lives perform, is just a purgatorial paradise, a prelude to one final effervescent castle, fair-- and that, inflated by a bubble god, most certainly invisible, and floating in the air. ~