Bubbles are bound to burst someday. We drift
inside their shimmer, mistaking the fragile glow
for life.
The fault is never with love, but our illusion
of permanence makes it seem so
the heartbreak when it dissolves
brings us out of an intoxicated state.
Can we imagine ourselves beyond,
unbound, choosing freely,
discovering the core once expectations fall away?
This is where life begins. And yet,
we call it loss.
Creative Experiments and More 
This is a beautifully contemplative piece—quiet, reflective, and deeply philosophical.
The metaphor of bubbles is especially striking; it captures the fragile, transient nature of our emotional worlds with such elegance. That shimmering illusion you describe feels almost tangible, and the way you connect it to love and our longing for permanence is both honest and gently unsettling.
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This is spot on Reena.
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