Calculations are careful strokes,
curves and edges that create sixes and sevens.
Her artistry thinks in invisible answers
to be carved out of logic in permanent ink.
Maybe life is like math, where people are numbers,
or problems waiting to be solved.
This reasoning forgets that creation is different,
circles that rise and fall like the changing of tides.
Too complex an equation for these simple lines,
the chapters of life and cycles of change.
Imperfect theories are all she can conjure,
expecting an outcome as perfect as morning.
Her intricate thesis, a ray in the darkness,
still clinging to questions, defeated by loss.
She knows things will be different when she is older
and comprehending the world with no remainders.