Computations

A Poem.

“I have it! I have it!” the Mathematician cried,
His hair in a frazzle, his glasses gone all awry,
His chalk making sparks from blackboard fly.

“What is it? What is it?” in wonderment asked I.
To which he replied-
“The purpose of it all, the meaning of life!
That one makes one, and from the prime doth all align,
And, hear this- that three plus two equals five!”

I looked to his blackboard, the equations in all their throngs,
Awhile passed ‘fore my reply came along-
“Is that really it? It sounds quite all... wrong.”

The Mathematician gaped at me,
Like I were a mere ding-dong.
“Is that really it?” parroted he, 
“How nescient, how headstrong!
   Can you not see the beauty of it ringing like a gong?”
I confessed I could not and took my leave,
Knowing here I did not belong,
I stepped back out of his lab and into a world of green,
And a sky ‘ateem with birdsong.

---