One becomes two, two becomes three, and out of the third comes the one as the fourth.
— Maria Prophetissa
0 I see you gone from where You never were. Your absence blossoms, Present everywhere As if it were the air. Nought and ought, You are the none. Your all is less Than even one. Round and shining Like the sun And self-consumed . . . And you are gone. 1 And who are you? I think I know. You are the one One more than none, From which all comes. You are the source, The primal force, The unseen face — Of her, of course: Womb and tomb And witch and lover. You: the great And long-lost mother. 2 And now, let’s see . . . Who can you be? I ought to know The likes of you. You are the one Who is the two. You are the father And the son And then the tree The fruit hangs on. You hang there bloody For all to see, Nailed to your tree. . . . 3 I look again. How can this be? You were just two And now are three: A stone, a stream, A leafless tree — What was, what is, And what will be. What is once was What was to be. So all are one And one is three: A unitary trinity. 4 Each time I look, I find one more. I turn around And there are four. . . . The right hand, East: My rising sun. The left hand, West: One more day done. North: sky above, So far away. South: earth below, Where I must stay — And teach myself What numbers say.
