Imagine if you were a number:
Which would you choose to be?
Something stable and solid, like two,
Or something odd, like three?
Zero would be numeric slumber,
The life of i, complex;
The air of million might entice you,
Or largest googolplex.
Perhaps you'd be the one and only,
Lost in self-absorption;
Perhaps forsake the whole adventure,
Only be a portion.
I'd risk a life that might be lonely,
But mine in all its time:
I'd open myself up to censure
And choose to be a prime.
Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Ancient Fire