They tell me in the human soul
Is where True Beauty lies
Or else it comes from nature;
Rolling meadows, open skies.
But as I watched the empty blue
And roamed through fields – dull green and flat –
I found myself just longing
To inject a little bit more Maths.
If I could add a few dimensions or distort the hyperplane,
Tend towards the limit of this lonely world’s domain –
Oh, what a scene I could create
From this dry and damaged soil,
If I could bend this vapid space
Into a mobius trefoil!
Music has a rhythm;
Every poem finds some beat;
But you can’t enjoy the harmony
By focusing on feet;
So must we not let axioms
Obscure the elegance of proof;
Numbers are mere building blocks
Of beauty and of truth.
Whilst we approximate the infinite to help with modelling
(here little Epilson and Delta have a tricky time of things),
And some equations do describe
The sensations that we feel,
Yet that’s still no proof of a bijection
To Rational from Real.
The sine curve doesn’t paid much heed
To the vibrating cello string
For it is at heart a function that aspires to greater things;
The reciprocal of zero is clearly undefined;
And there are many scores unwritten on the music of the primes.
Consider too, how humans hearts
Inflict such pain and hurt;
In a way much more irrational
Than any poor and humble surd
When society seems desperate
And there’s no clear reason why,
We can still cherish the simplicity
Of e to the minus i pi.
So let’s not underestimate Worlds we’ll never comprehend,
Accepting that there’s Romance
To all logic in the end.