Transcending up above into the sky,
floating in mid-air,
thousands of tiny bubbles in dulcet making their way out,
dancing like magenta glass-beads,
when sunlight scatters them into hexagons and prisms in mosaic,
fizzling out of reality into the imaginary,
so does my thoughts causing demolitions of the archaic,
as soon as i poke one -
to escape from reality,
it pops and disappears,
bringing my subtle ideas to gravity.
©anshikakushwaha