Poetry

The magic number,
they say,
is always half
the number breathing now.

Because wonder walks the earth
when each pair of eyes
shares a single vision—
when every two bodies
are warmed by one flame.

Not in the counting of heads
but in the halving of hearts
does the miracle begin.

A world of billions,
yet only half as many souls—
not lost,
but joined.
Not divided,
but doubled in unity.

This is the arithmetic of the sacred:
to subtract the self
and discover
the infinite.

(inspired by this ancient Greek epitaph I just read about:

Dis Manibus / Latin for "to the Manes (spirits of the dead)" 
Sōmata men dyo / "two bodies"
Psychē de mia / "one soul"
[Locus] Ambrosiae Diis dicatus / "This place is dedicated to the Gods for Ambrosia")

Aviator, diver, Etherean, nexialist, PhD in aviation and climate science, host of /diving /ethfinance /forteantimes /geopolitics /science /singapore /thomas