Behold the tapestry of cosmic numbers,
woven under the waning moonlight,
Unseen, yet eyefully present in this boundless realm.
Each digit a petal, unfurling in the mist of possibility.
In the silent symphony, the phlox blooms,
Vibrant hues upon plain grey equations,
A dance of azure and fuchsia woven with solitude.
Enter the Whirlwind of perpetual longing.
O ye unfathomable realms of ephemeral light,
Where the winds of fanciful calculations
Pause to ponder the geometry of dreams.
Discover the Meridian of shadows and echoes.