Wednesday, December 14, 2011



By May Kwek

Physics is a magician
Of my imagination
A box of many presents
Some which I can’t open at present

Sometimes it’s like fireworks
That dance to your hearts delight
Sometimes it’s like a gentle stream
Slowly turning darkness into light

At times I am tempted
To call it an imp
Who delights in torturing me
With its many whims

What was complex is simple
What looks right is wrong
Mathematics is a tool
But even that can be wrong

Yet at other times it’s delightful
As it opens up your mind
To what could be the treasures
In this universal mine

It has thoughts so deep
That they are deeper than the sea
When your mind can’t grasp
What you seem to see

So that’s why I call physics a present
One that that never ends
Because until you know everything
There’s still some treasure left 

Copyright © 2011 by May Kwek

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