Mask on. Fuck it mask off, says Future.
I saw dandelions, this morning , orbs of seeds bright against the dappled grass, shaded by the shifting branches of a silver maple tree. Surely, I thought, this is what the greats saw — Leonardo DaVinci, Albert Einstein, Carl Sagan — a world of striking beauty. And even for them, intoxicated with phenomenal understanding (for what else is beauty?), I’m certain there were moments when they looked away from the leaves and the sun and turned towards a woman knowing, in that instant, nothing was, or ever would be, as important as her.
But they were great men and we know them not for their tenderness or love, but for what they did, what they left behind, their theories, their insight into the universe and their advancement of knowledge. While I know of their greatness, while I know that they must have loved, I don’t know whether they felt foolish afterwards. So I wonder, if upon returning to the sunlight after a night spent in a bed beside another body and waking up and seeing a dandelion in the late spring, and finding it inseparable from the wind that held it aloft and the sun which made it glow like corn silk, if they felt ashamed with the order in which they placed the universe.
Or did the thought never cross their minds, having never seen a difference between the union of matter and the union of two bodies? Perhaps they saw both with the same instinct, an innate desire, to hold, to feel, to touch and perhaps in doing so understand, something of origins, of why it is lonely to be alive.
Chase a check, don’t never chase a bitch, says Future. My best summers were spent alone, says Albert Einstein. I’ll see you in the cosmos, says my neighbor spraying me down after a long run with her black garden hose.