Not a poet, but a mathematician.

I'm not a poet, but a mathematician, In equations hides my world’s condition. My father’s not Homer, but Aristotle’s the name, In logic’s embrace, I find my claim. I’ll sum them up quickly — no verses I seek, Where metaphors, rhymes, and verbs interweave. In bits and in bytes, my success is unique, Yet feelings are lost, in sorrow I grieve. A graph shines like stars in the dark of the night, Each point from the multitude feels just right. Through functions I journey, hidden dreams in my sight, Learning to find the optimum, my guiding light. Don’t save me from algorithms’ embrace, Where precise data is my endless space. In logical networks and formalist grace, I traverse my dreams, in calculations, I trace. In rhythms of numbers, in harmony’s song, Where every algorithm’s a chord played along, I leave in the white of the page a small flaw, Amidst countless formulas, inspiration I draw. So let from these numbers a poem arise, Where math meets the lyrical, under blue skies. I’m not foolish, my path is just short, Finding in algebra my heart’s true report. With every step, as in rhythm and life, May logic lead forth, like stars through the strife. In this universe, where there are no chains, I’ll discover the formula for joy that remains.