Mathematicians
like painters, poets, architects,
uncover patterns.
Patterns of numbers
are always there
and always were,
while worlds decay.

In the geometric building
meetings and classes buzz,
and, from time to time, eyes
glance through windows to the sea
or to the birds flitting,
as if black ink words flew from a page.

That great sunset sky
of rose and gold
like a precious page
of Xuan paper
or a Matabei print
waits for angels from the east
to draw the emblematic curtain of the night.