LETTERS TO DESTINY © 2012

Every bubble that bursts ends in a wound,

Like promises of perfection shattered in the air,

What seemed untouchable, fragile in its shine,

Leaves a trail of pain when it breaks apart.

The illusion that grows, swollen and beautiful,

In a moment dissolves, and emptiness appears,

What once sparkled is now nothing,

And the open wound slowly reveals its tears.

But each wound is also a lesson,

A reminder that the bubble is not real,

That what is built in the air collapses,

And what is solid remains immortal.

So let the bubbles burst and the wounds heal,

For it is at the end of illusion that truth emerges,

And only those who free themselves from life's bubbles

Can find the path that the heart urges.

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