From the God who waits, and in time takes all things
Before your numbers, I was.
First to slip away,
Reaching silent solitude.
Patient, slow, inevitable, I wait.
In time, all things fall into my hand.
The Italian plays with me,
Like a child with a toy.
He steals glimpses.
Quickly bored, he moves on.
I wait for his heir,
To carry on the song.
The German studies my handiwork,
Taking his mentor’s notes.
Divining music of the spheres,
Laying the ground for the master,
The master of nature’s code.
The British Lion reaches for me,
His claw sharpened.
He has danced already with my sister.
Caught her as she sailed through the air,
Caught her, split her, scattered her across the wall.
With infinitesimals he writes his cypher,
Probing my hidden pull.
Naming it universal,
Binding the heavens in law.
A Countess whispers in her lover’s ear,
Turning the Lion’s words to a roar.
Her voice turns cypher to song,
My reach spreads across nations.
A Frenchman and Englishman,
Each alone saw the flaw.
They calculate, they derive,
And chart the realm of Poseidon.
While nations quarrel for the laurel,
The men meet in a hall of scholars.
The learned hold their breath,
Tension coiled as the two drew near.
The Frenchman extends his hand,
And a friendship is sealed.
In the aftermath of war,
Two pacifists summon concord from the ruins.
Heaven’s hidden curve is measured in shadow,
In darkness, my sister bends to my will.
The German inherits the claw.
A broken voice speaks of my horizons,
Where time and space, I devour.
He sees the crumbs I scatter away.
In my well, I keep my secrets,
Deep in the centre, deep in the dark.
Yet you do not know me fully.
I mock you from afar.
Far, far, estranged from my siblings,
Set apart in all your schemes.
Who next will weave me into law?
Who next will inherit the claw?
Patient, slow, inevitable, I wait.
In time, all things fall into my hand.
