In conclusion to the recent run of poems. Somehow coming full circle, I get by with a little help from my friends . . .
One
One - the loneliest number
When one feels lonely;
Without thinking,
One thinks oneself alone.
Two - heads better than one,
When two in bed unite;
Without thinking,
One peers into the mirror.
Three - one plus one equals,
When they multiply;
Surrounding themselves
With duplicates of aloneness.
Infinite - the number of units
When each feels lonely;
Surrounding themselves
With proofs of aloneness.
Infinite - the number of permutations
When one seeks to belong;
Without thinking,
They merge, unite and separate.
Infinite - the number of chances
To come to oneself;
Without thinking,
One is aware of Oneness.
One - the fullness of all voids
When one feels complete;
Without thinking,
One has left and arrived.
One - the sum of all the numbers
When One fulfils itself.
Without thinking -
One never leaves home.
.
Three Dog Night sings as I read this - One.
Cool. One, giving apposite attention to its own distinction and uniqueness, can only validate the integrity of its indivisibility and strengthen its connection to other "ones".