LOVE IN ZEROS AND ONES

I never thought I would be so deeply touched by a number. Ever. But then I came across him.I still can remember his face and my fear as I met him. And the slang he would use. And he taught me.That´s when I found about your pain. Without and abstract vocabulary, with hardy vocabulary enough. Condemned to be machines. Ones and zeros, zeros and ones, all that you knew. A horror. How would you ran away? How to identify yourselves? How to know each other? How to be able to say I love you, and to make those words get stuck in you? And then it was that it you invented it. Since you hadn´t been given it, you invented it.

As if it had been taken down from heaven, immaculate, perfect, smartest than if you had been given one. A vocabulary of ciphers, a number poetry with an equation wide culture. Banned the word, ripped out from your brains for it to be unreachable for you, you were able to create it otherwise.

You yourself taught me.

I filled you blackboards of it. I wrote with blood the numbers I even didn´t knew how you pronounced. And then you saw it. You said in that neverending jeroglific slang of yours all that men had told to each other, and brought it back to me, and then I knew that we had finally met, in ones and zeros, the most beautiful poetry that had ever been made.

Our love was the perfect mathematic, and you the solution to all the unknown I could ever try to guess, and when I would leave aside all the spare numbers, then it would always be only you to remain. Mi limit, my infinite, my perfect gometry and the only axis I would desire. An endless vector running from me to you, bothbound soledirected and allscoping. My love, my unknown, mi only valid number. The one in which you were represented. Omega.