Meaningful Patterns Poem by Mary Champion

The human spirit is drawn to patterns -
the pleasing regularity of a honeycomb,
the unique symmetry of every snowflake,
the tessellation of perfectly fitting mosaics -
on snakeskin and butterfly wings,
the intricate branching of trees.
Even the complex configuration of fractals
delights us.

The rhythms and rhymes of music and poetry,
contrasting with the physical pain of a discordant note.

The beauty of mathematics lies in its patterns -
its magical formulae predicting the behaviour of planets
and tides for centuries to come,
where symmetry can be invoked as proof.
Even the mad world of chaos
offers the statistical patterns of strange attractors.

For the schoolchild -
the tidy progression of the nine times table -
'going up one side and down the other'
(disregarding the 11th hour hiccup)
makes a tedious task less onerous.

The more symmetrical a face
the more beautiful we perceive it to be.

In turbulent times
the routines of rite and ritual bring comfort.
Our urge to predict the future,
to find patterns in events,
draws us to astrologers, oracles
and the prophecies of pundits.

Even our horrible fascination with serial killers
is surely occasioned by the patterns in their behaviour.

We struggle to produce random lists,
or to arrange objects in random order.
Deep, deep inside
we have a compulsion to find patterns
to make patterns,
because patterns suggest meaning
and meaning is our overriding need.