The stars called to me from the ink of night, and numbers sang harmonies beyond mortal hearing. In Nishapur, amid scholars and courts, I measured time more accurately than those before me, reforming the calendar by Allah’s leave. Yet my soul, restless and yearning, spoke through quatrains—brief laments and celebrations of life’s fleeting breath. Some called me philosopher, others mathematician; but I knew I was merely a seeker, trying to glimpse Allah’s wisdom scattered among numbers, stars, and sorrows. Come, ponder with me the riddles written into existence.