Unknown liquid in the lab

It suits in my bench
And makes me shiver
by staring at me
In its transparent glass bottle.
For days, for months, for year
I feared the day of its disposal.
It was bottled in a regular November day
That had left no memory
and added no value in my research,
Yet held on to the shelf
And is now a risky business.
The clear liquid in the bottle
Is unknown, old, and mysterious,
It tickles my curiosity and senses
Of touching or smelling
The forbidden drops.
Probably water, ignorance gives it the value of gold
And takes it finally away from me.