Easter Eves are not my luckiest days. I've had several that were difficult for me. None of them related to another and none of it pertaining to Easter. Just coincidentally difficult days I suspect.
When a bubble bursts the universe only hears a tiny pop, but all the little pieces that made up that bubble are disrupted and scattered. What was a luminescent, iridescent shimmer is gone. What was once a pliable, adaptable filmy boundary no longer exists. The glint of the light has no where to land, the reflection of the parts has no where to be.
We only hear a pop, but a miniature world has ceased to exist. Imagine then, that life is a gazillion little worlds all bumping into each other, all shimmering and shivering and glinting in the light. Why should I miss one small glimmer so much?
I won't be hunting for eggs this morning. Instead, I am hunting for me, trying to figure out where I am, because if matter can be neither created, nor destroyed, I am still here somewhere.
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