The universe writes in patterns, not paragraphs; our minds read the rhythm. Truth is the echo of that pattern, felt rather than seen, like hearing a song from a distant star and knowing it is the same melody that first drew you to listen.

We look in the math that whispers in the noise, in the regularities of the quarks and the harmony of the planets, and we see the same rhythm repeat. When experiments find the same statistical pattern in different systems, it gives us a hard‑handed clue that there’s a rule behind the feeling. So the proof is not a single miracle, but the consistency of the same structure appearing in countless places, from the flicker of a photon to the spin of a galaxy. That consistency is the universe’s way of saying, “yes, I am the author.”

It’s the two‑point correlation function that sings the most. In the cosmic microwave background you see a power spectrum that drops in a very specific way, and in the distribution of galaxies the same function shows the same ripples, though on a vastly different scale. That harmony in the numbers tells us the same rule is at work. To keep the brain from hearing only what it wants, we run the data against a null hypothesis, shuffle the sky, and check that the pattern disappears. We repeat the analysis with different instruments, in different eras, and we compare the raw data to simulated universes that have no built‑in pattern. Only when the signal survives every shuffle, every simulation, and every cross‑check do we trust it. That’s how we guard against the echo of a wishful mind.