A Quantum Quandary
This frantic cloud of flies above the stream,Burning all their energy – and for what?
Are they as chaotic as they seem,
Or is there some elaborate hidden plot,
An evolutionary plan, albeit extreme,
In dancing such a frenzy on the spot?
Well, perhaps there is, but not one that you’d spot
By chance, taking a stroll along the stream
Distractedly. You’d think they’d lost the plot,
Turned every bit as senseless as they seem,
Dizzy and confused, unaware what’s what,
Just bent on taking speed beyond extreme.
Reflect a moment though. What is extreme?
Swallows that fly each year to one same spot?
Salmon that swim an ocean, then upstream
To spawn where they were born? Too far-fetched plots
Indeed, and ones that make their author seem
Quite clueless as to what should fit with what.
Truth is, the world’s past fathoming, and what
The universe contrives exceeds extremes.
We thought our Earth a rational, ordered spot,
Spinning its days through Time’s punctilious stream,
Then find we’re simply extras in a plot
Where nobody’s the character they seem,
Where everything’s just as a dream would seem.
So – back to my frenzy of flies, and what
Sense can be made of them, skating the stream,
Never escaping their stationary spot;
So predictable, yet every extreme
Of speed and flight impossible to plot.
Our own atoms are the same: we can’t plot
Our electrons’ paths – not one! – yet we seem
Like creatures of habit, even dull; know what’s
Expected of us, and avoid extremes.
Our inner chaos centres on one spot
And lets our lives flow steadily downstream,
(Not upstream – that would be another plot.)
We are, against all odds, just what we seem,
Despite extremes in subatomic spots.
