For God's Sake

Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories

Of vortex filaments.

How some have been ill-posed, some singular,

Some poisoned by their self induction, some core size killed,

Some haunted by the mathematics they have involved.

All murderous.

For within the swirling motion that rounds the mortal circulation

Of a vortex

Keeps futility his court,

And there the non-linearity sits

Scoffing at his state and grinning at his theories

Allowing him a breath, a little scene to linearize, compute and fill with approximations

And then at last he comes and with a little inconsistency bores through the costly hopes and

Farewell …