The Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard Feynman ploughed his own furrow. In his second volume of autobiography What Do You Care What Other People Think? he revealed that he sometimes thought, not just in terms of equations or pictures or models, but in poetry, making an emotional connection with his subject, as in this poem composed while standing at the seashore:
There are the rushing waves
mountains of molecules
each stupidly minding its own business
trillions apart
yet forming white surf in unison.
Ages on ages
before any eyes could see
year after year
thunderously pounding the shore as now.
For whom, for what?
On a dead planet
with no life to entertain.
Never at rest
tortured by energy
wasted prodigiously by the sun
poured into space.
A mite makes the sea roar.
Deep in the sea
all molecules repeat
the patterns of one another
till complex new ones are formed.
They make others like themselves
and a new dance starts.
Growing in size and complexity
living things
masses of atoms
DNA, protein
dancing a pattern ever more intricate.
Out of the cradle
onto dry land
here it is
standing:
atoms with consciousness;
matter with curiosity.
Stands at the sea,
wonders at wondering: I
a universe of atoms
an atom in the universe.
Feynman goes on “The same thrill, the same awe and mystery, comes again and again when we look at any question deeply enough.”
Indeed.