I build, rebuild, in cold, precise refrain,
each proof a link within a tightening chain,
the forms align, immaculate, severe,
while every pulse grows fainter, harder, dear,
no passage cut, no mercy in the scheme,
each theorem trims the flesh to fit the dream,
and leaves me bound within a lucid pain.
The will inclines toward rest that will not start,
a hush that gathers, intimate, apart,
yet reason keeps its vigil, stern, awake,
each axiom another clasp to take,
till even longing learns to speak in law,
and drafts its end with disciplined awe,
a final line inscribed across the heart.
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