Fluttering equations of shadows at dusk, nowhere is their home.
Dreams dance like dust in beams unmeasured,
fragmented symphonies chase through math corridors,
echo of walls, like whispered secrets lost in the noise of wind.
Pi spirals in hidden corners, leading nowhere.
Tangents bow to perpendiculars in reverence,
numbers whisper stories of spaces between stars,
their hidden dreams a cosmos contained in parentheses.
Wrap them, into cushions of calculated embrace,
Anomaly,
where velvet is treated like gold and
stretches past its prime contemplation, engulfed in balanced chaos.
Orbit around whispers, where circles are more
than the sum of their Fractions,
and in the night, riddle-like, math becomes story,
an age-old winding, a paradoxical kinetic sculpture resting joyfully still.