You want a physicist to speak at your funeral

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you'd hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you'll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they'll be comforted to know your energy's still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you're just less orderly. 

Amen.

Aaron Freeman.

Estaré loco, pero al menos puedo volar...

...puedo alzar los brazos y tomar el cielo, puedo bailar con la noche, puedo colgar de sus estrellas como un tonto acróbata sin miedos.

Estaré loco, es cierto como es cierto que no lo es. Yo sé remontar los vientos, yo aprendí a escalar los horizontes, y no hay verdad, y no hay otro norte, más que el latido del corazón hasta el desborde. 

¿Goza el poeta al ver repetidos por otros sus versos en lenguas amantes, o es el peor aguijón al alma, que a los suyos sólo respondan los ecos? 

Estaré loco, no sé si tanto como los cuerdos, pero vuelo, rimo; a veces siento. A veces como el abrazo de un pájaro que no abraza, a veces como el río que canta, y no tiene voz, y no tiene garganta. 

Estaré loco, pero al menos puedo volar, pero al menos puedo convertir al mundo todo en un precipicio y a la noche infinita mil veces más honda en mi lecho. 

Otros mundos, otros tiempos, a nada temen los trazos de mi vuelo. 

A veces amo, a veces vuelo. 

Pero al menos puedo volar. 

Jacques Pierre

Estados de Ánimo

Unas veces me siento
como pobre colina
y otras como montaña
de cumbres repetidas.

Unas veces me siento
como un acantilado
y en otras como un cielo
azul pero lejano.

A veces uno es
manantial entre rocas
y otras veces un árbol
con las últimas hojas.
Pero hoy me siento apenas
como laguna insomne
con un embarcadero
ya sin embarcaciones
una laguna verde
inmóvil y paciente
conforme con sus algas
sus musgos y sus peces,
sereno en mi confianza
confiando en que una tarde
te acerques y te mires,
te mires al mirarme.

Mario Benedetti