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Rena Su Poem
One is not a prime number
But a singularity that stands alone
One and itself in the vast sea of
Numerical complexities
It stands alone, solemn
Edging close to the realm of nihility, of nothingness
Yet, all the same, an infinity away.
Why is it that one is the first number we learn?
The number we begin on?
One is the greatest isolation but
The vastest togetherness
One is individualism, one is monotony
That one unpaired piece
Of spontaneous upholstery
The single unwashed yellow sock,
Underneath the mahogany table
With a lonesome chopstick from Chinese takeout.
One clock hand suspends between 6 and 7
One is the number of strangers at that tabletop book signing.
One remains the vast crowd that sings of peace.
All is one
But is one
All?
Copyright © Rena Su | Year Posted 2019
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