FRACTAL

Fervently believe that mathematics are the representation of perfect order, the sound balance and the divine presence of a higher order. Our daily life revolves supported by mathematical events that go unnoticed, but not so obvious no longer stand the man.
From throwing a stone into the river, flying on airplane or shopping at the supermarket, mathematical expressions come to life with incredible precision.
Felitzia Tornello is passionate about that magic. That is why I want to present a beautiful poem to one of many ways that mathematics has to be present in our hearts.
Clarify that a fractal is "a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is (at least approximately) a reduced-size copy of the whole," called self-similarity property.

FRACTAL
Snowflake is your nest. Image, illusion.
Your infinite shape moves me inside a world
where there are not lies neither falsehoods.
The man you called fractal.

Exquisite geometry in which I find
The true, indivisible, plain, unique.
You emerge like abstract idea,
more yet, remain like life test.

Almost nobody knows you.
They see you trough a transparent crystal,
but only those whom believe in you,
can see your divine eyes.

Poem by Felitzia Tornello

METAMORPHOSIS

There are many things change in life: The man, societies and religions. However, although nature has done so for millions of years, its processes are wiser, more understandable and keeping a logic that goes far beyond us.
Also, there are many manifestations of metamorphosis in nature, but the butterfly, perhaps from being so involved in our daily lives, it is my view, one of the most representative.
In this poem, I try to show my amazement so divine conception of change from a caterpillar to a butterfly. It seems that God intends to offer a simple example and wonderful than any human being can achieve through hard work, conviction to change their environment for something positive and proactive, as well as love and respect for their habitat.


METAMORPHOSIS

When I admire the transformation of the nature,
I feel myself more mortal, more fugacious, more inmaterial.
It is like to see the eternity resumed in one cycle
that oscillates slow and tenderly.

No words necessary to describe it,
and it is because there no exist.
Only one poem can describe it
and involves it in a word like divinity.

In the climax of the advent of a new way of life,
I remain in muting, trying to fill my soul
with the breath that exalts from the softness
of the wings whom are battling to reach the sun.