Scheduled drops withstand the distance.
Venturing hands search for an opening.
Half-open panes push aside
Those eager to escape the Bubble,
Extending their tired arms,
Begging to survive.
Inside, there is no life,
No solace, No solitude.
Floating alone are the lonely multitude,
Fleeting across overwhelming ecstasies
And joys tangible.
All around are millions such afloat,
Separated by unfathomable nearness.
Yet the distance.
All peeping through their eyes,
Staring at each other
Whenever a trapped soul passes by.
Thus as one departs, sudden remorse strikes.
Crying stops – and tears arise.
Fists bang on the glass.
Losing the unattained
Is what the trapped cannot classify.
Every stranger becomes someone long lost known,
As if someone dear, deeply bosom.
Oh why cannot everyone naked
Have something sharp enough to pierce the facade?
Only if the bubble could burst open
And set free everyone
From the prisons of civilized taboos.
Then the least everyone could join hands
And fly unhindered under the closed sky,
Above the finite horizon.
Where there is no bottom to fall,
No height to rise.
Without the the limiting ground,
An unending skydive.
Open your soul. Break free the Bubble.