A thin spherical layer,
vivid colors upon it,
rising above memory,
Drifting through the air,
such were we,
or perhaps we are,
young, brave, angry?
Branches pierce the bubble,
shattering it into drops,
the ethereal falling
to the solid ground,
Down there, we can still paint
not on the elusive walls,
but on a linen ground carrying
our skies and our earth.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 8:01 PM UTC
A thin spherical layer,
vivid colors upon it,
rising above memory,
Drifting through the air,
such were we,
or perhaps we are,
young, brave, angry?
Branches pierce the bubble,
shattering it into drops,
the ethereal falling
to the solid ground,
Down there, we can still paint
not on the elusive walls,
but on a linen ground carrying
our skies and our earth.
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