In the beginning was the number
Signs myriad in space infinite
To each their own and then some
For those lingering under the elder
In the murky waters of a hidden fen
Beyond the briny no man’s land by sea.
Ciphers were still tools to wield
With people’s hands – blunt or sharp,
To act as guardians to their charge
I plead with you: when did interest
Cease to mean to value. Owning moor
And more than can be accounted for.
Subtracting meaning – till – it shrivels
A husk that shields the highest bidder
On stale plains of Gods’ forsaken land
Greed is good unbounded and now made
Its dwellings among us. Cast them out
These bloated figures. Add the worthy.
Larger scales are weighing us down
Ever further in the fewest’s favour
Until the digits burn the precious too
And barter for the revolution’s waver
It will be the day that numbers count
And represent the open field they slew.