Through the usual spectacle it’s lost
Obscured by the vanities we endure
The strings of soul continually crossed
Her light inside so pure

To others it might seem a mystery
Surely this isn’t her way
But alas I see with great clarity
The Math! It soothes her stay

Tonight she sings of no greater truth
Than that of a Slope-Field Equation
Her dance with infinity increasingly smooth
A variable just needs her persuasion

Wistful am I on this beach of a night
Remembering a tangible myth
With numbers Oh numbers I saw a playwright!
A mathematical monolith