A small, crystalline bubble wafting skyward -round, clear, myriad colors. Bubbles live for but a moment, then evaporate, vanish into thin air, leaving not even a faint outline of where they were. There is no print of their being left behind.
Do bubbles have a being? Who can tell? Perhaps we are to some other being as the bubble is to us -faint, brief and ephemeral. Our illusion of solidity is perhaps, just that, illusion. The world may be naught but layers of bubbles; each layer seen differently; depending on the perceiver.
An ant colony is an active, intense, purposeful hierarchy clearly laid out and understood. But what does the ant king or queen know of the big foot that steps on them and crushes them -stamps them away. Where do they go? Like bubbles, they vanish too.
Is some big foot crushing out our life? Do we see it coming? Do we call it death? Do we know anything really? Are we like bubbles?
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