The following is a poem by Richard P. Feynman who was a brilliant experimental physicist, an inspirational teacher, a philosopher, a poet, an artist and an accomplished bongo player.  He taught and inspired a new generation of scientists and philosophers and maybe even a musician or two. But it is as an artist I have been propelled along by his question: ‘Is no one inspired by our present picture of the Universe? This value of science remains unsung by singers, you are reduced to hearing not a song or poem, but an evening lecture about it. This is not yet a scientific age. What men are poets who can speak of Jupiter if he were a man, but if he is an immense spinning sphere of methane and ammonia must be silent?’.