A distant star's reflection in a child's soap bubble may appear trivial, yet carries ancient stories.
In a place unmarked by time, where the cosmos sings, invisible bubbles dance silently, reminiscent of the quiet waves of the galaxies.
Each bubble a moment, each moment a universe in possibility. They whisper to one another in a language long forgotten, here in the transient theater of dreams.
Ponder the questions left unasked, the answers that are not answers, in spaces between breaths.
Listen to the Wind's Song