It can perhaps be tricky
to remember,
but your beliefs
are neither
expensive
nor sturdy.
They do not stack neatly
one on another,
like bricks,
but in truth are the shape
and consistency
of bubbles—
mysterious dirigibles
spawned from
strange wands,
and borne
on their courses by
impotent winds.
Exemplary as they are,
their translucence
was never wrought to suffer
an increase
in the altitude
or atmospheric pressure
which inevitably must presage
dissolution
and its death rattle:
that cheap little pop sound
as another evanesces
from your memory.