The Numbers
The night sky
is full of numbers that cannot be counted.
The stars numb then inspire,
then numb.
The word ‘infinite’ becomes a conjectural sum
to be defined by pundits in bow ties
and star-crazed, white coated messiahs.
Tilt your head back on a cloudless night
feel the burn, the cold mathematical anesthesia
of being infinitesimal, not even a reckoning
in an unsolvable puzzle,
a nonplus that breeds only more numbers
until like a train,
your brain runs out of rails to travel upon.
Perhaps an intuitive awareness will save us
- a new kind of starry abacus arise
pre-set to calculate only incomprehension,
then we may move
beyond the tyranny of such number games,
counting only ourselves in.
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