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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.