Like a Bubble

Sometimes I feel like I live in a bubble: Delicate film for skin, vulnerably alive. I float but not freely, bound by the earth and its gravity, pulling me down, while I need to fly, rising from the boys who pull wings off dragonflies, just for 'fun'. Ah, when the wind stirs me, swirling me - in circular patterns, while I breathe fully, Not afraid anymore, the breeze is so gentle, yet it playfully moves me around and around. Gravity is lighter, and I let myself be blown, from the breath like God's, which created me. Like a loving father, this kind wind supports me: He holds me, teaching his young daughter a waltz. I am lifted and carefree, within his arms, smiling. I am gazing within the sweet eyes of magnaminity! Oh, Father, please protect me, yet let me be free. Keep me from reach of those who would harm me!