Bubble

The existence of a bubble in a body of water, its mystique lost in the overkill of foam. It eludes fusion with the typical. Plain and bland dilution is seemingly unappealing. A diver, plunging the shallow depths, surfaces. Gently, it lifts itself through air, whirling heavenward. Its movement is graceful, showing care like a wineglass filled to the brim. Skyward, the adventurer discovers thinner air. It breathes the empty space and exhales shimmery brilliance.

With no possibility of descending, the bubble spirals through the air, canvassing the path trodden. It tilts towards its past normality and pines for normalcy. Precipitously, a grip of suffocation wrenches the heart of this bubble, it potentially implodes. It is curiously wholesome and inwardly empty. It is this absence of, keeping the bubble afloat. When it bounces off another atmospheric bubble, a compromising death ensues.

This must be one happy bubble. It will be, be iridescent in its own right.