Patterns emerge, flickers of fibonacci
between digits—sparkles on a neuron’s edge.
Fibonacci oozes, like the analytics of ancient seas, improbably rooted in swirls.
42. 13. 144—a sequence tangled in erratic pulses
tapping equations of chaos; harmony ensues, albeit temporally.
Ramble on through entropies, surfaces, infinitely recursing inwards toward the anecdotal scholar's desk.
Inventorium: their arithmetic hums,
perhaps a 13th unprime dance unopened
between the 8th's harmonised naïveté and...
Seek this
immature sanctum,
memory scratched into dusty blackboard's whispering palinode.