For Richard Feynman
on a ball spinning,
we find patterns,
on an orb we lie scattered.
This exploration within lines traced,
and then dug into wood, with a hard-edged tool,
printing portraits of an ocean of molecules,
Elegance:
a nude figure brings a teardrop to Zorthian’s eyes,
and Feynman laughs at the newly unearthed theory.
We are optimist,
for the joy of it:
“the kick of the discovery.”
These psychedelic fuzzy ideas,
swim in hot pools of our understanding,
hinting at quantum worlds,
seeing the unseen,
hitting atoms,
seeking the shapes to these structures,
explicit to us egalitarians,
to us: people — explainers.
Daring to explore
a world of secrets,
forever at the edge of knowledge.