When all these numbers are finally crunched

As electrical spasms jerk each thought

At equations of such simplicity –

Patterns emerge that were there all the time.

Nothing arrives without arithmetic

Shaping paws – or stripes on a cat’s long tail,

Calculating the way it thinks and purrs

To heal itself as some illness takes hold.

Adding this to what’s seen in cold night skies

That seem far away, everything becomes

Clear, almost algebraic, not simple

But chalked on a blackboard for a child to read.

Do subtracted lives shrink in importance,

Pale figures, vague shadows in the distance?

editors note:

*Sometimes, our equation seems unbalanced; impossible to solve for “x” when we can’t see “y.” –* mh clay