She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left until class. Its tick, tick, tick was the only sound in the room.
She looked around the room. Nothing but the equation charts that she covered with long sheets of colored paper during tests (always to the dismay of the students) and Tu fui, ego eris. Latin. What you are, I was; what I am, you will be. She stared at it. She had written it out on a sheet of white cardstock and stuck it to the wall with blue tape on her first day. It seemed like a kind and encouraging quote, a reflection
Nobody has the answers
But everybody has the Y’s.
Speculations of a faultless green pasture,
Based on a line of best fit that was drawn to lie.
The solution is a sequence of random numbers and dates.
In addition to a complicated sum of love, grief, fear and hate.
Which form a unique equation that can never be revealed.
It’s the only bit of ignorance that still remains concealed.
Even though we may feel defenseless.
The possibilities are endless.
The opportunities are relentless.
Opinions become senseless
And still we lie restless.
Attempting to solve the unsolvable
And control the uncontrollable.
To know the unknowable.
that calculate the gravitational pull
that tethers us to one another,
teasing sense out of the fabric
of Time and Space like
wizened snake charmers.
I thought them so horribly unromantic,
searching for logic amidst wildflowers--
reasoning being reason enough
to put one foot in front
of the other each day.
True beauty lay printed
on petals and pages,
where I delved for pearls;
the patterns in the pathos
intriguing me into each
rising of the sun.
I do not remember when
it occurred to me that without fractals
there would be no trees, nor without love
would people have any reason
to calculate the distances that
separate them from their muses.