It all adds up, for numbers man,
integers integral to the plan,
equations, formulae that span
space and time, in sum the truth.
Law of the Medes, unchangeable,
from big bang to a quantum state,
there is no shaking of belief,
this, the language of everything.
Prime curlicues to hieroglyph,
whatever font, creation named,
the signs are counted in their place,
the poetry of numbers reigns
supreme as art and science join.
But the eternal question posed,
God, mathematician of beyond,
if without end, infinity,
where is the grace of love’s account,
emotion, feelings, care about?
More likely, were the women found
as equal part, not minus bound,
their wisdom in divided world
would multiply and reconcile
with art of merging peace resound,
as logic softened by their touch.
Our numbered days see poetry.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion.
His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/