A vacuum, residing in the backdrop of lifeYou never choose the adventureIt opens up to youThe flowers on the field you would think ofMay get vacuumed in by a force of natureInto dense woodsThere are dandelionsDeporting parachutes out into the free skyI pick up a pencilIt brings me my futureIt takes me to my nostalgiaYou pick up a basketball, a pen, whatever you think it might beIt brings you your futureIt reminds us of a chromatic past, the fruit of progress and liberationA fruit of the strong resonance that we have with the worldA dandelion narrowly escaping the revving of the vacuumTorn into shreds of life, under the tree with many fruitsWe need not say apples, pears, or cherriesThese fruits are not describable but are expressibleWe indirectly control the vacuum, the source of countless feelingsHow so that the dandelion spreads its message with the wind?It’s the backdrop of life, thanks to that universal vacuum.