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From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com>
Date: Sat, 28 Mar 1998 05:02:19 -0600
Fwd Date: Sat, 28 Mar 1998 10:12:26 -0500
Subject: Alfred's Odd Ode #234

Apology to MW #234 (For March 28, 1998)

Koch burns and he curls and he churns with significance; easily
stated but beyond comprehension =85 that a line without end on a
path to infinity is bounded finitely; it paints our pretension.
The thought has been shelved by the egg heads for decades. It's
shoved in the shadows to hide its weird light. Its message is
awesome, confusing, disturbing -- it points to a system of
balance and right. It pulls at the mind, and won't be denied as
it's unity's being portrayed and described. The model is clear,
it's the *circle* that's dear -- the infinite path, what was far
can be near.

Julia gave circles a wave and a lilt. Mandelbrot catalogued the
whole of their ilk. The facts and the figures reduce in
precision; away with your fear and its spawn indecision. The
birth of the one is the other's kin portrait, we see them in all
of the natural world. The whole of existence is fractal in
nature, with time and black space it's been mixed up and
swirled.

Chaos is order that's not understood. It's the lapping of waves;
it's the growing of wood. It's the ice fashioned crystal; it's a
stream to the coast, it's the root of the cosmos, not a fanciful
boast. It's the veins in a leaf, or your hand's vascularity. It
is that which portends all that _is_ -- a new clarity! It's the
shifting of markets, the spread of disease; it's the truth we all
search for a crawl on bruised knees. It's what's living and
breathing, or dead and inert. It's the whole of reality; it
breaths and it hurts.

It is galaxies colliding, and reflections of that light. It is
planet forming forces, plate tectonics -- Vulcan might. It is all
that ever was, and it hides beneath the surface of a faceless
bunch of numbers we can buy into for purchase.

It will put us on the moon, and help us dig up all the water. It
will throw us to the stars, and it will show us what we squander.
It's the lapping and the crashing of a billion, trillion seas. It
defines our motivation, and we can leap up from our knees!

The volume is finite, good friend, and _will_ not be exceeded!
The perimeter is endless, ad infinitum, I've entreated. Down is
up, and black is white, and all your motives are in question;
chaos is predictable; and that's a new sensation.

Lehmberg@snowhill.com

Koch's curve -- a construction with a _finite_ volume, but (and
get this) an _infinite_ perimeter!  There's some real magic in
there fellow motes.

Restore John Ford.

--
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http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/arecibo/46/

"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from
afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, while burning at the
fundamentalist's stake.