Rising To Be

And, the stillness of the night, gives way slyly to the red hues of the birthing sun.

Silence is pregnant and full now, goosebumps flow on my arms and engorge me during this change.

I wonder if the soul is not like a bubble lying deep in the ocean. Rising maddeningly, striving for freedom, to move through and out of the shell towards the air where it can just BE.

Can one soul be so different from other souls of different colors, religions?

Do not other souls rise, wanting to climb up towards the air? Do souls really squander time, when the past holds them down, with lost loves, with slights of ego, or do souls always push upwards towards better?

When passing from this world to the next, would we not feel FREE?

Yes, I am still anchored in now. I regret the passing of some not all souls, and I still regret my mistakes of now. And I wonder, should we not look up and out for a direction as our souls do?

Should we not be as bubbles, rising to just BE?