The duty and the honour
Of working and walking
While all i see
Is time going by
With no flavour.
Patiently i shout and consider
Possibilities and present chances
Inventing a new setting
For me, for us,
Where time is only in the background
And not so abundant.
Even today you can
Through the little break in their attention.
In that second others ignore,
You will change your path
And will never feel
Imprisoned on a sunny day
In a fruitless office.
My lips cannot pronounce
The impact of these numbers
But only imagine it and suggest it
With metaphors and little confidence.
Numbers talk to me
And they swirl into a portray of our future
That hardly graphics can describe.
O tired myself today
Punching the reality
To move it further.
They border is now distant
But almost visible
with my half-closed eyes.
The luggage is ready for tomorrow.
No plans, no agendas, no reminders
When work is curious
And colleagues are stimuli.
Targets are just bites for you
Who anxiously dreams how the whole cake will be
And how the story will end
Taken by a day-long search
For an explanation
To the behaviour of those pet molecules
It is easy to live like in a dream.
Floating over samples
And graphic statistics,
I breath only when the picture is in focus
And has defined borders.
I try not to Forget those little questions
That add corners and colour harmony
The sun has today
A paternal attitude
Coming through in bright spots
To enlighten my thoughts
Of revolutionary science
for a future we can hardly draw
in Black and white.
In the sun,
Another day has passed
Through my clicks and my printings
In the busy lab
Who looks forward.
Lab animals feed on planning the future
And snack on tiny bites of promising mistakes
While the mission proceeds.
Hard and strong like a Kernel
In the stream of the competition
That science has become.
Floating or settling
Talking or observing
I learn to alternate the powers
While the target slowly fades.
A mute film goes on in my mind
Where the next experiment is enacted
And proteins jump and roll
Under the perfect light
On the thinnest of the cellulose fibres.
The behaviour is unpredictable,
A moody twist of the binding
Produces a loss and a dramatic inactivity.
The tiny acrobat has fallen
But not without living an imaginary event
Of high potential for science
And of fascinating cartoonish drama for me.
My head is today stick in a jar,
The sounds are far
The reality a confused mosaic.
I am a walking lighthouse
Catching attention and focusing its energy
to a specific point at the horizon
To lighten new doors and make old talents shine.