Born of heat and trembling air,
the spiral breaks from symmetry—
not lost,
but never returning the same.
Its wings are laws in motion,
etched in numbers, flung wide to the wind,
a butterfly folded in three dimensions,
threading the threshold of order.
This is not chaos, but a whisper of it—
geometry dreaming of fire,
a storm caught mid-thought,
turning endlessly within itself.
And still,
it remembers where it came from,
but never where it will land.