A Poem about Pythagoras (The Music of the Spheres, Chapter One)

In principio erat verbum
And God hung with the Word.
God said 'let there be light'
And Pythagoras was heard.
He noticed the numbers
So the answers could be right.

'Look beneath appearance,'
The Master Math-Man said.
'The Universe has proportion,
No matter is just dead:
It follows to strict ratios.
Disorder is mere distortion

Of a divine and consistent plan.'
And the adepts were well pleased.
Then he played a funky jam
And all their minds were eased.
'Music calms the wild heart,
And gives culture to the bam.'

He'd been throwing shapes
And getting pissed, this rather angry lad.
Who's that he sees? It's his bird
Sneaking out his best friend's pad.
The techno beats had riled him up
'I burn her up,' he slurred.

But Pythagoras was on the street
Like Elvis could he croon.
He threw down quick some ambient
The lad's mind was re-attuned
To higher things, the ways of God
His rage was merely transient.

So back to heaven, high in a cloud
When God designed the Earth,
A ratio was established then,
Between height and width and girth.
The scales of music express it
And it's how God speaks to Men.