The Bubbling Cup

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The cup stood there bubbling - inconsistently, as if it stood on the edge of a great table, poised to fall millions of leagues underneath its most known atmosphere - Frightening!

And such was its temper that it bubbled even more, spilling onto the vast black sheen that was the ultimate abyss, which in comparison to earlier times it stood so close to plunging into, as a dropped marble into an ocean - A bubbling ocean, but with so much endless fire!

And perhaps yet was its happiness becoming weaker that it must now jab its finger down a path, to plunge and explore those regions where it may not have the air required to bubble - although the exploration could be a flame in the ocean, and a dancing fume... or...no! no! It would be a miracle of the great atmosphere to be given that slight tip toward the plane, wherein it could stand unsheltered by a giant skeletal figure, and unthreatened by the abyss - Solid! Stand there, the cup would, and bubble until it had no atmosphere left...

But there must be remembered a certain lack of completion for the gravity which stole that cup's bubbles into its black arms - the cup still tilted, although evermore the black hands grasped it with the tips of fingers, dark and staining - fingers that would steal the light of the atmosphere (although that certain air provided only gray!).

Herein the cup stands upon that table, and is forever bargaining its jumble of bubbles which sink in the darkness or rise above, above - the glory, although the atmosphere never ceases to touch them except when they plunge... Oh! those millions of leagues of ebony ocean, to what end, this horrible thing - to what end?