Hidden in Numbers
Or have we always known
Numbers, oh numbers,
what do they mean?
A world of calculations,
a numerical scene.
From one to infinity,
they go on and on,
A language of their own,
a symphony of song.
Zero is nothing,
but it’s something too,
A placeholder of value,
a start that’s new.
One is the first,
a beginning so bright,
A single step forward,
a journey in sight.
Two is a pair,
a balance in life,
A duality of nature,
a husband and wife.
Three is a charm,
a magic in sound,
A trinity of power,
a holy ground.
Four is a square,
a structure so strong,
A solid foundation,
a place to belong.
Five is alive,
a hand with its fingers,
A sense of direction,
a journey that lingers.
Six is a hex,
a curse or a spell,
A symbol of magic,
a story to tell.
Seven is lucky,
a number of fate,
A mystical wonder,
a door to the gate.
Eight is an octagon,
a shape so divine,
A symbol of infinity,
a never-ending line.
Nine is the last,
final goodbye,
A closing of chapters,
a time to comply.
Numbers, oh numbers,
what do they mean?
A world of calculations,
a numerical scene.
From one to infinity,
they go on and on,
A language of their own,
a symphony of song.
About the Creator
shallon gregerson
I conspire, create and love making my mind think
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis4 days ago in Humans
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