Tijdens een gesprek met een vriendin kreeg ik opeens voor ogen hoe de mens qua gedrag soms lijkt op atomen in een kristalrooster. Niet geheel zonder dank aan een vroegere scheikunde-docent met zijn dansvloer vol atomen, kwam er verolgens deze tekst uit gerold.
Atomic Human
People sometimes look like atoms,
With their places in a grid.
Going out means interstitial,
Blending in, a perfect fit.
Though some people, radioactive,
Try to fit, but all they get
Is a dislocation, breaking all the
Bonds existing before they’d met.
Relations shift to give some room,
Bonds break and are created.
The weak links go, the strong ones stay,
High stresses are evaded.
Closely packed, though, things get different,
Tension is rising, nowhere to go.
Immovable, you’ve got no choice but
To be compressed, like the end of the show.
A rise in temperature offers relief,
Helps to settle it all down,
Though if you cool it down abrubtly,
It will surely make you frown.
Grains will mismatch, borders will form,
Friction and slip start to occur,
What started as a nice smooth surface,
Might suddenly have a nasty burr.
Interstitial people are the ones,
Who’ll easily blend in.
Off the grid, they are all free,
To just follow their grin.
The substitutionals who are
too big to fill their place.
They will stress out the ones around,
They have no happy face.
Copyright Halbe Mulder, 2010
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten