X squared: You are the cross, I am the digit,
The tiny swan-like “2”, appealed to you.
Do crossroads turn to lakes for those who need it?
I’d turn into a swan if it was true.

X squared you are. The prophesies are coming
From swastika of your unlikely smile;
Like ancient scriptures with unfold forthcoming,
They float under the moon on river Nile.

“Be good think good”, I got from you. How lucid!
How little understanding does one need
To realize what “happy” means, and use it.
Your bedtime mantras I do love read,

Without the commas that break down the wholeness,
Stand in the way of words becoming streams;
Without the question marks that doom ideas homeless,
Like virus sprouting in our timid dreams…

Such is the manner of your writing. Surely
When there’s no question – there’s no doubt. Oh yes,
Your writing is so special and assuring,
As firm as Master’s rule, no need to guess.

X squared we are: You are the X, me – number
That multiplies your image echo-like.
I keep on writing through the storm and thunder
While snatching glimpses of your fading light.