You know how little children run after bubbles?

Sometimes I feel a little like that, running after feelings, everything going on inside.

Sometimes they astonish me.

A bubble that once was, no longer.

You see it again, around the corner.

Then, plop, it’s gone.

Or plop, the strength of the emotion spills out! From weightless to a forceful wave, gushing over.

You look around in wide-eyed wonder – where do bubbles come from? What made them? What’s inside?

A helpless, bemused juggler.