Copilot's sonnet on Epistemic sets as Skhorokhod spaces

Sonnet: On Worlds That Walk in Time

A world is not a point but paths that glide, Right‑continuous through time with sudden leaps; Each curve a life the knower must decide, A thread of truth the mind observes and keeps.

What’s known is carved from all that can’t be told— The futures branching where the jumps may lie; Yet as the hours pass, the veils unfold, And indistinct paths slowly unify.

For knowledge grows along a filtered stream, Where histories diverge, then fall away; One towering path may dominate the scheme, Its rise outpacing all that others say.

Thus worlds are woven not from states alone, But from the moving lines by which they’re known.