To Arithmeticians.

To Arithmeticians.

You use numbers, and formulas to solve the world.
You think yourselves Masters, Pavers of the future.
Like you’re the glue, the mystical suture.
Without you, life would be a mess, simply hurled.

Here I stand, this archaic Rhetorician.

I use words, and sentences to speak my soul.
Weird, huh? Quite antediluvian! Really, I belong in a hole.
Yet, I burst at the seams with magic, like a magician.
Words and stories just bring chaos and perdition.

Did you even notice what I did there?
You’re just sitting there, with a blank stare.
Take a wild guess, use some numbers, if you dare.
But then again, I don’t even think you really care.

So I’ll just go, and take your advice and read some Shakespeare.
But I won’t stop writing, as you asked so kind.
For the future is yours to create and mine to bind.
For this ink flows in me, ‘tis my blood and my tear!