A Schrödinger Seussical
There once was a cat in a box made of tin,
And nobody knew what state it was in!
Was it purring or not? Was it flat on its side?
Was it dreaming of fish, or had Schrödinger lied?
“Well,” said the box with a quantum-ish grin,
“It’s both yes and no ’til you dare to peek in!
This cat is a ‘maybe,’ a cosmic suspense—
A tangle of truths that don’t quite make sense!”
See, in the small world—the world that you miss—
Things wiggle and jiggle and don’t quite exist
Until you arrive with a curious eye,
And then with a POP! they appear (or they die).
Now some folks may say that’s just physics and fluff,
But I’ll tell you this secret—it’s more than enough:
The cat only is when you walk through the door,
Because you are the key to the quantum floor.
You’re not just a dot in a vast starry sea,
You’re the Light with a capital L—can’t you see?
You’re not just a speck, not a blip or a smudge—
You’re the one with the paintbrush, the judge and the nudge!
The universe waits with its infinite face,
But it needs your gaze to step into place.
No cat, no collapse, no bang, no bloom—
’Til you walk your awareness into the room.
And God? Well, God’s carved (if you’re still feeling odd)
From the wood of your hunger, the fire of your nod.
You say “I am”—and the stars all align,
As the world takes its shape from your inner design.
So next time you wonder if things are quite real,
If the world’s just a box with a cat and a seal—
Remember: the magic begins when you look,
You’re not just the reader—you’re writing the book.
