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Physicists must be poets; they may have not discovered this fact yet but for dissecting the anatomy of sunlight; split opening its colourful spectrum and observing its duality to shape-shift from traversing waves to a speck of brilliance, it can only be done by a poet at work. For poets love to see beyond the reach of eyes and underneath the skin of things; searching for universal truth, carrying thought experiments in a tucked away corner - where time ceases to exist, momentarily - a paradoxical state - a playground that suits to the likings of physicists. Thus, physicists must be poets or maybe just maybe somewhere in a different universe; poets must be physicists, where laws of physics are but poetry.

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