May/June 2023

A vacuum, residing in the backdrop of life You never choose the adventure It opens up to you The flowers on the field you would think of May get vacuumed in by a force of nature Into dense woods There are dandelions Deporting parachutes out into the free sky I pick up a pencil It brings me my future It takes me to my nostalgia You pick up a basketball, a pen, whatever you think it might be It brings you your future It reminds us of a chromatic past, the fruit of progress and liberation A fruit of the strong resonance that we have with the world A dandelion narrowly escaping the revving of the vacuum Torn into shreds of life, under the tree with many fruits We need not say apples, pears, or cherries These fruits are not describable but are expressible We indirectly control the vacuum, the source of countless feelings How so that the dandelion spreads its message with the wind? It’s the backdrop of life, thanks to that universal vacuum.

I question myself, as much as I would like to As much as a tumultuous wave whose reason is still due My backpack is full, but is it an illusion? I think it probably is, but it sometimes really is full I go to a nature park, and why are there loops in the road everywhere? A day that appears to be monotonous is not the reality A day that truly is monotonous is definitely rare I’m a multi-musician, but am I proficient in one way or another? An answer pans across the dewdrops of the pond The acoustics around me, the chirps wrapping around my eardrum The table is not turning, but it’s tilting I know that I am excellent in certain things Hence, I make a tribute And there’s no specific reason It’s just another idea of questionable originality