How the hell anyone would know beats me, but it sounds likely: "Parallel lines meet in infinity."
Similarly, various disciplines strike me as likely to mix and mingle, assuming anyone really digs in. Sort of like one whiff-waft of campfire smoke mingling against the night sky with another. Smoke heaped upon smoke.
Zero, for example, is the poetry. But add a one and it becomes prose. Yet both are mathematical constructs, exact as a scalpel and not at all the wafting, winking, infusing components of a passing brook or shading tree.
Not that it's important or worth chiseling in stone. It just crosses my mind like indistinct chatter on a warm summer beach. All this and a couple of bucks will get you a bus ride.