24601
when jean val jean asked, "who am i?"
and answered his own question
with a string of numbers, useless
digits that run on and on, i never
understood why he clung to those
numbers, why 24601 was important.
i never thought one day i would ask
"who am i?" and wonder if numbers
would describe me and become me.
now i ask, "who am i?" and i don't
have a number or a letter to begin with.
i know my name; i suppose that's
enough, but to know something more,
to see where i'm going, to know
there is light down the street and
around the darkened corner, to
know when i get there, me and
my box will belong, would be the
greatest number to cling to, the only
identity i could hope to claim.
and answered his own question
with a string of numbers, useless
digits that run on and on, i never
understood why he clung to those
numbers, why 24601 was important.
i never thought one day i would ask
"who am i?" and wonder if numbers
would describe me and become me.
now i ask, "who am i?" and i don't
have a number or a letter to begin with.
i know my name; i suppose that's
enough, but to know something more,
to see where i'm going, to know
there is light down the street and
around the darkened corner, to
know when i get there, me and
my box will belong, would be the
greatest number to cling to, the only
identity i could hope to claim.
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