To Johannes Kepler (first letter)

Dear Mr. Kepler,
Those with the means ensure your name remains imposed somewhere upon the Universe.
You’re probably remembered now as I imagine you once remembered Copernicus or Aristotle (an authority and precedent setter in the advancement of human knowledge, a canonized entity, someone who has survived their own death through their works).
Isn’t this usually realized in part by arbitrary circumstances, dumb luck, strange twists of fate, the collapse of civilizations, compounding scrap heaps of long unacknowledged recollections and chances — a kind of complex randomness and destruction that accidentally manages to save the odd idea from utter obscurity?
I saw a painting of you (a digital image of a painting of you). I was reminded of an urban professional eating sushi (I live in 21rst century Vancouver).
I keep returning to your refutation of classical reasoning — its fallibility in trying to discern the truth of things. I think of your powers of observation — your ability to step outside of yourself. You knew you weren’t the centre of the universe.
You started a shell game with the underpinnings of everything — what we think we know, how we know it, and why. It all continues to be suspect.
Each of our selves remains an obscuring partition.