Let us accept, as our first postulate,
that much of what seems obscure to us
is an artefact of our imperfect way
of conceiving of and representing numbers.
Imagine there was a way of thinking about numbers
that made everything obvious and self-evident,
a God Number
which was not in itself a quantity
but the key to all quantities.
Simply knowing it is a moment of creation,
an eruption of paradox and axiom,
a Fiat Lux, a beacon,
and our minds are shadows,
our numbers mere plunder we hide in them,
weak candle counterfeits of that creation
by which we read about worlds we dream
but cannot see.
Prophets are blind at the threshold of knowing,
their words to us a grudging valediction
we extort from them as they depart
to learn at last the God Number.
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