Prompt:
Write a poem, in strict sonnet form, about the Cullinane diamond theorem.
Response (slightly tweaked for grammar):
Within a grid of sixteen squares reside
A diamond's gleams where symmetries do guide.
Though tiles may shift, a pattern shall remain,
By unseen lines of ordered form sustained.
Rows mix and columns twist in playful dance,
Quadrants align with geometric chance.
No matter how the elements may turn,
A hidden balance always will return.
Where Latin squares in secret do align,
And finite fields their subtle powers combine,
An ideal forms, with brilliance all its own,
A ring of light where hidden truths are shown.
Though chaos swirls, an order does descend,
The Cullinane's bright theorem will transcend.
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As for "a hidden balance" … See Oct. 10, 2022.