Our numerical nomenclature,
Our open love letter to reason,
A muse, a confidante, a precious gift,
The infinite and divine thread through,
The simple, mundane, and immediate,
Lofty geometry and imminent counts,
The squares that dance within our sight,
Tickle at the foretaste of perfection,
And draw upon a silly smile: five five -
The perfection between the hands.

Rightly take my praises Lord,
Justice demands Your glory be made known,
Enthroned upon my lowly lips admist,
The chorus of the stars and all that is,
So steer my heart along the path,
Lord guide me with your rod and staff,
Make me too an instrument of your peace.

The silence plummets,
With the arching dart,
Homing in a little to the left of where I thought to land a hit,
But alas a double eleven is struck,
Surely darts fly to my best interest,
Surely this sequential flying dream will pierce the-
Oh, I missed the board,
A joyous giggle resounds between friends.