The Neutrino Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A ghost that slips through walls of lead,
By billions dancing overhead.
It leaves no track, it wears no gown,
The lightest phantom in the town.

Born in the furnace of a star,
It travels fast, it travels far.
Through solid earth it flies right through,
And never leaves a drop of dew.

Yet as it runs its cosmic race,
It shifts its mask, it changes face.
Three shapes it takes, a shifting view,
A trick of physics, strange but true.

So small it barely can exist,
A speck of dust in cosmic mist.
A whisper from the deep unknown,
That flies forever, all alone.