love letter from a scientist I am not a poet. I am a scientist. I can measure the exact frequency of your voice when you speak my name, but I cannot explain how it resonates with such perfect clarity down my spine. I can describe the process by which you inherited your mother’s hair and your father’s smile, but I cannot explain where the twinkling galaxies in your eyes came from. I am baffled by the apparent gravitational anomaly that draws me to you with a force far too great for your size. I know of no way to quantify the volume of your presence in a room. I am not a poet. I am a scientist. Prose is not my specialty. I will never be able to combine words to craft sonorous verses as easily as I combine chemicals in a flask, but know this — to me, you are every bit as fascinating as the view through a microscope. To me, you are a mystery greater than any cat in a box, and are fraught with as much uncertainty. Each day brings new understanding of you, and the knowledge that there is still far more to discover. I am not a poet. I am a scientist, and there is nothing a scientist loves more than the the pursuit of discovery.
Posted on: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 20:01:48 +0000