I hate six; six is the number of man.
I hate six, though I love the great “I AM”.
I hate six, however eight… “Is matchless in style…! ”
I love the Holy Spirit’s nine-, without man’s guile.
I hate six… “It’s such a number of sin.”
But I love your numbers Lord; they help me to win.
Now it’s your leading Father, guiding: “one, two-, and three.”
But oh how I hate six, as you can plainly see.
Five is OK, appearing as Mercy’s Grace, bowed before God’s face.
Still, I do so hate six; though 'it's dressed in the finest of lace.'
Strange, how no one sees you Lord ‘as a Mathematical muse.’
Some would rather question Your miraculous existence, and accuse.
Timeless circle, Eternal One made flesh, manifested into Living-Light.
With all mathematical equations, minus six 'symbolic of sins' might.
How might you equate the Heaven's lovely One, minus that of two?
Division is often a dysfunctional number, without unity of glue.
You're the God Of Numbers; they reign uniquely throughout my head.
Not enough can be said; I hate six- denoting all types of death.
I hate the number of six, although it always comes in tens...
Five reminds me of His matchless Grace, forgiving me of all sin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem