We place this condition on superpostion.

Consider the state of the innocent cat.

The cat has not harmed you, and yet in its crate

Until the lids lifted you toggle its fate.

You, the observer, hold all the aces.

You will determine its curses or graces

Is it now dead or is it alive?

Will it give up or will it yet thrive?

Alas it is living and alas it is dead.

And that, all at once, or so  Schrödinger said.

But I must conjecture and thus introspect:

A cat and a particle? Do they intersect?

If anyone ever got a bum rap in the world of physics, it’s Schrodinger’s cat.

Poor cat doesn’t know whether it’s dead or alive until you look into the box.

Completely dependent upon your perception.

Is that fair?

Someone has to speak up for the cat.

And that someone today is me.

Pity, oh pity, Schrodinger’s cat.
never knew whether ’twas this or ’twas that.
If he would spit, would it be spat?
This or that
Poor Schrodinger’s cat, waiting for someone to come and observe,
never to live, never to serve,
all the cat in the box.
was no better than rocks because it required that you look and see and break the rhyme and look so it might be.

Is he alive or is he not?
Is he thriving or beginning to rot?
You do not know, he does not know, till you open the lid.

I’m sure glad Schrodinger didn’t fill that box with his kid.

Oh, the box and the socks and the rocks and the locks, and the pity and gritty knocks on the head for the cat that was.

or wasn’t, or would be, or wouldn’t, or should be, or could be, or perchance shouldn’t.

I pity the cat and every rat that has been locked in the box.

What can we say?

What can we do?

Schrodinger’s cat

This one’s for you.