One stanza in the poetry of mathematics <br />Speaks of butterflies and building clouds, <br />Of reasoning toward a chasm, of quantifying chaos: <br /> <br />For, as a system becomes increasingly complex, <br />Small variations in data inputs over time will yield <br />Huge fluctuations in results, so that ultimately <br /> <br />A butterfly beats its wings in China and <br />Causes a storm to arise in the Atlantic <br />(Of which the butterfly is blissfully unaware) . <br /> <br />The poetry of mathematics does not speak <br />Of butterfly conscience, sympathy, or dread; <br />It does not deal with the romance of clouds. <br /> <br />But if our thoughts have wings what winds have they stirred? <br />What storms have our uttered words precipitated?<br /><br />Gary Witt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sensitive-dependence-on-initial-conditions/
