Don't mistake me for some mere mortal man, despite the fact that is what I am.

These numbers all add up, and by "add up" I don't mean "make sense". I mean compile, compound, and condense.

You are every number you are assigned. Your weight, and your height, but you're still one of a kind.

Perhaps the start became askew, as now you have to appease a certain view.

Because maybe between, "I'm trying to lend a hand," and "I'm trying to understand,"

WE found "I'm trying to define." "To outline."

To segregate, to separate.

Maybe it's time we left all these numbers behind, out of mind, and then we'll start to find;

Infinity.

By a symbol it comfortably dwells, and it is free of numeric prison cells.

I will not be shackled in digits, but I cannot be the only one to fix it.

I will have trinities on my breast, and infinitys on my liver will rest.

I will have hearts stained on my kidneys,
And upon my stomach I will florescent trees.

And as all immaculate things must fall,
Down will come symbols, purity and all.

Our descendants will come to our same flawed fate, and symbols will cages create.

Children's children's children will awake, and words they will commemorate.

They will see through to when the pen was invigorated. When words were made and encased and plated.

They will see that though words can strip and tear and disintegrate, words will never fail to free and weld and amalgamate.

So do not mistake me for some mere mortal man despite the fact that is what I am.

Because as time has past on and numbers become ballast,
I will never forget words, the first and the last.