Millions of bubbles; bubbles, bubbles, bubbles. <br />Who could have thought that so small <br />could be the curse of all, <br />and source of all our troubles? <br /> <br />Microscopic seeds <br />encasing nuclei of fire. <br /> <br />Each germinates and breeds <br />subtle filaments of desire. <br />Desire slides in and overpowers, <br />making our best intentions fail <br />and weaves the warp and weft of the painted veil <br />which shrouds this world which is not ours. <br /> <br />Lift it? <br />It proliferates with every minute. <br /> <br />See? <br />Our eyes are trapped within it. <br /> <br />The world? <br />The world's a vast, empty machine <br />which thunders on, <br />blunders on, <br />silent and unseen.<br /><br />Brian Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/painted-veil/
