Parabolic vectors float
across a sea of simple blank.
The soul transfixed with formulas
I saw it start just as it sank -
Unknowing, keep its path by rote.
The flexibility of curves:
An algebraic miracle
Tweak variables, or invert sets -
The formula just smiles and lets
The little mathematician pull
The thought into a gentle swerve.
My thoughts have bottoms, tops and sides.
My thought have limits, edges, lives
Of digits, integers. I hide
Could I but calculate this 'me'
Into a logarithm rise,
A swooping sort of curve, to glide
Out lightly to the sea!