While I sat back staring at a book,
I found myself mired in an unusual hook.
With the events in my life passing by,
I realized I could present them in an unusual rhyme.
So I pick a pen up and start to scribe,
Paper after paper torn and chide.
To eventually meet my jiffy of eureka,
There’s nothing more intriguing than a mathematical lambda.
Something just like this it goes, not a moment wasting by,
The epiphany followed by a series of events after she greeted “hi!”
Ironically I believed, I would always be,
As aloof as the number, Root of Three.
While three is all that is right with might,
The three of my life is always out of sight.
Shadowed by the vicious square root sign,
I secretly wish instead that I were a Nine,
For Nine could forestall this evil trick,
With just a bit of clever quick arithmetic.
Invariably though I never did see the sun,
As astoundingly and inaccurate as 1.7321.
Such was my morose reality,
An incongruous irrationality.
When hark! What was that I see,
Another square Root of Three?
Had quietly come waltzing by,
And together now we did multiply,
As we merged, we saw the quirks hide,
The sorrow subtract as we divide,
To be a number we fervently prefer,
Finally rejoicing as a carefree integer.
For “N” as always thought is great and free,
Now that I belong I could clearly see.
The roots and the operands now come and go,
But the bar of my life keeps shouting, no.
Recurring we grow, raising powers,
Until the unending numbers stop to shower,
To finally be broken free from our mortal bonds,
With a wave of some mystical magic wands.
Such is this graceful entity,
The number we all wish to be,
Some times zero, sometimes one,
And sometimes an infinity.