Something a bit more personal again.
Another one of these poems, the last for a while, but probably not the last forever.
I find that there is a strange comfort, yes even a safety in numbers. There is a security in knowing that a number always has a certain value and that when you combine them in different ways with other numbers there is always one right answer to their combined worth. Subtracting, multiplying, dividing, there is always one right way to do it and if you do it right you always end up with the right answer in the end. Two plus two always means four and multiplying six with four always results in twenty-four. Numbers are solid, they’re safe and certain.