Eight. (A perfect little number).
Positive unimodular lattice
dwell in dimensions divided by eight.
'Tis vital I'm told to the way of the world,
and my ignorance begs no debate.
But eight on its own is a marvel,
two perfectly plump little O's,
one perched on the top of the other
as around and around this world goes.
And eight is the chemical number
without which mankind would be sunk.
We'd turn blue in the face, as if drifting
in space and start acting decidedly drunk.
No eights would make spiders uneven
they'd just tumble and roll on their bums.
Spinning blithely away in complete disarray
without their eight fingers and thumbs.
Just eight is the magical number,
of the billions of stars in the sky,
that orbit the girth of our glorious sun,
as it nurtures and warms from on high.
And eight bits will still buy you a coffee
in Starbucks at Broadway and Grand.
That's with taxes of course not included,
and it's instant and horribly bland.
But as I ponder within my gazebo,
a structure most pleasing in shape;
eight sides in an octagon perfect,
I think our Lord made a mistake.
For two O's not just one is the ideal,
and I think it would truly be great,
to be a positive unimodular lattice
in a dimension divided by eight.
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