THIS is something that came out of my classes with Alina Rastam some years ago. It was during a time when I needed some healthy distractions from my what I was doing at that point. Needed to look at life from a different side, so from the Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre, I ended up in Alina's small, group classes at her quiet home in Bangsar. I loved it.
My bubble my world
travels beyond the skies
where air is slippery
and things move dreamily
like molasses sliding down a glass.
My bubble my freedom
not a trapped butterfly in a jar
or a domestic parekeet in the wild
it's like dolphins in the deep sea
that swim and swirl and whirl
without boundaries or worries to see.
My bubble my featherbed
is a carbonation of comfort
an oxidation of pleasure
of playful secrets and fantasies
of earnest hopes and dreams
of love, joy and peace.
My bubble my element
sphere and familiar
never stale with routine
or sick with doing nothing
free and easy, hot and cold
like a balloon over a mapped Earth.
Love my Bubble, my psychedelic bubble
where I own the space
and boss the time and thoughts.
So I do get lonely and lost
when my bubble is burst.
With just a little prick.