I read a story about a guy who died
And then people saw the work
He’d toiled over his whole life.
It was some kind of art
And people marveled about
How this quiet old man
Had made such rich things
And never told anybody.
It’s a story people like.
We’re all clamoring for some recognition
That what we do in our respective laboratories
Somehow matters.
Someday people will know what we made.
If not in this life,
The next.
Good example? The Watts Towers.
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I feel like this is all of us… the poets, the artists, the dreamers and me
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