numbers

Here’s to the one more day tucked under my belt
To the last 24 hours I tried to live without worries:

Seven in the morning, the daily sentence begin
But two cups of rice at 11 set it aside
Sometime noon, I pay 30 coins to a man
and pass by a seventy-kilometer scenery

Anytime in the afternoon, there comes two stories
Of 604 words that makes gold out of mud
Dozen scribblings, three phone calls
An exercise of routine learned out of degree

Sun sets sometime at six, and somewhere
Inside me, mercury seems to rise
A funny sort of neon flicks before me
And the sentence finally reaches its meaning

The road ahead is dark, at seven streetlights glow
Stars cast a pale light of reverie and melancholy
Nameless faces scurry off to their roofed shores
Outside no soul ever wanted not to be at home

Walking down the path–
“There’s something with numbers I am afraid of
The more they grow, the more I stand alone”–

It takes to Church 61 steps of blind faith
Inside the room of 4 rows of 3 pews
Sits 2 women–one kneeling, one sitting
Them ever praying to the one miraculous bread

I unzip my bag and pull out 10 beads
Where my faith hangs on and death seems to peek
Here’s to the 873 soldiers that fight ’til the end
Against a deathly heirloom of that 60-minute heat

If I were to quantify my faith, courage, and hope
Numbers will come to reel in human scale
That one sentence outweighs gravity, physics
Making angels weep when faint prayer uttered

For the 6 women who held my heart
For the 172 new people by March
I was told, Savor the sorrow to soften the pain
Two hands clasped may save the day