Wednesday, November 27, 2013

All I know is that I have to write this stuff down to get it out of my head

                                                    The Mathematician
                         There was a man with a head filled with numbers
                          But the numbers brought him no happiness
                          The more numbers he gathered
                          The more sadder he became
                           Many a friend tried to help him
                           The philosopher, the scholar, the doctor
                            All offered wisdom
                            But to no avail
                            He sat crying in a dark room
                            Counting the tears with his forefinger
                            Numbering the days left to him in this world
                            Clutching each number tightly to his chest
                            Then came a knock on his door
                            "Please let me in! I can help you!"
                            "No one can save me. I have only a few numbers left
                             The philosopher, the scholar, the doctor have all tried and failed"
                             "But I am none of those
                              I speak the language of numbers
                              I am a Mathematician like you"
                              "Is this a cruel Joke?
                              Surely your numbers are also slipping through your fingers?
                              And, like me, you will perish counting your tears in a dark room"
                              "All I ask is one moment of your time. Open the door
                               Surely you can spare one moment--one uncounted tear"
                               The door slowly parted
                                A blinding light blinded the mathematician
                                His hands shielded his face
                                "Just listen to the voice of numbers
                                 The only voice you can ever hear
                                 Hold out your hand
                                  I give back to you the one moment you gave me
                                 Each morning when you wake
                                 Cut the moment in half again
                                 Do this every morning
                                 And you will never run out of numbers
                                 You will never run out of numbers
                                 You will never perish
                                 Remember and tell others
                                 To the philosopher, I am the Philosopher
                                 To the scholar, I am the Scholar
                                  To the doctor, I am the Doctor
                                  To the motherless child, I become the mother
                                  To the lonely, I become the Comforter
                                   To those lost in darkness
                                    I become the Blinding Light

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