Quantum Duck Soup

Quantum Duck Soup On a quest not unlike the hunting of the Snark, The physicist seeks his elusive quarks, Those delectable nothings that come in fine flavors, Dancing through the void like colored party favors. Their elusive forms leave him vaguely annoyed, Their lack of substance teasing his mind With hints of possible future sustenence Though the harder he looks, the less he shall find. At last he settles for confining them to books, Their invisible bodies hung up on invisible hooks. Strangeness, Beauty, Charm and Truth - These the four gifts of Spacetime's youth. What a pity such flavors may never be tasted, Save by such minds as are themselves roasted and basted In the merciless ovens of Pure Mathematics, Where Theorums be bred by eccentric fanatics. Up, Down, Bottom and Top - The merry quarks spin on, and never stop. The bones and brains of their living hosts Move ever forward, impelled by flavored ghosts.