The Bubble

To see a dream in a bubble....

The long cherished dream, a glorious illusion,
at times so perfect, a pretty delusion.
Too brittle to touch and too hard to resist,
like a beautiful bubble too vain to persist.
A burst of colours on a surface thin,
pray lend me some, to colour my life dim.
A picture of perfection, of harmony divine
pray stay with me, inexplicable is the joy I derive.
I see shapes in the clouds passing by,
I strain to hear a song in the whispers sailing by,
So futile are my attempts. Thy perfection is hard to come by.
Won't you stay a while longer and render the strength I seek?
To believe in the perfection of my dream, just like I see in you.
Pray don't break so soon, its my dream that breaks with you.

In the summer haze

A thousand shades of green against the brightest blue,
flowers of gold on the ground form a carpet new.
Bountiful trees with their bouquets alure,
the buzzing bees and flocks of birds galore.

While the gentle breeze soothes the sweat trail;
Fluttering merrily behind the bougainvillea veil,
the cuckoo croons the old melodious tale.
My heart pauses to ask, how different can be Rivendale?

How I wish to be a melodious tune,
to be crafted by the master divine,
to linger long enough to make one smile
and then fade away leaving no trace behind.

How I wish to be a part of this paradisiacal picture!
To be a colour in the palette, a tinge in the rainbow.
To render a certain completeness to the scene.
To be an actor, rather than a spectator.

But then I am part of a celestial drama,
a line perhaps in an epic.
Inconsequential, yet of some importance.
Insignificant, yet irreplaceable.
A myriad of virtues and vices.
A custom configuration of perfections and defects.
So foolish, yet so human,
forever seeking a respite other than the ones I have been given.