Three

A reflection on the significance of the number three.

In near-dark quiet,  
she sits still,  
breath slow,  
thoughts deep.

Three—  
a shape in mind,  
a pulse,  
a rhythm.

Warnings float past,  
like leaves  
on a gentle stream.

Yet power hums  
in three’s space,  
a steady beat,  
a silent call.

Three Graces,  
holy echoes,  
father, son, spirit,
an invocation.

Faith holding
harmony’s hand,
touching wisdom’s edge.

Numbers dance  
in shadowed light,  
patterns forming,  
shapes becoming.

Three words hold  
a soft weight,  
understanding’s door,  
open wide.

No need for light:  
just this moment,  
this number,  
this calm.

Her eyes close,  
seeing beyond sight,  
where thoughts  
gather and part.

Patterns throb,  
not random,  
mindful, careful,  
like breath’s flow.

Three steps forward,  
three steps back,  
a rhythm  
older than time.

She feels it,  
not just counts,  
the space between,  
the silent beat.

Wisdom doesn’t shout,  
it hums low,  
in places  
words can’t reach.

Harmony  
is balance found  
in thirds—  
a quiet truth.

Understanding blooms,  
slow and sure,  
like dawn  
touching night.

Author’s Note

This poem grew from a fascination with the number three and how it shows up in so many different ways across cultures and ideas. For example, the photo of the three monkeys on this page relates to a Japanese proverb known as the sanzaru. One monkey, Mizaru, sees no evil (covers his eyes), another monkey, Kikazaru, hears no evil (covers his ears), and the third monkey, Iwazaru, speaks no evil (covers his mouth).

It’s interesting to me how something as simple as a number can carry both caution and reverence, seen as powerful and perfect, yet also surrounded by warnings.

I referenced the Three Graces and the Holy Trinity in the poem because they reminded me how deeply numbers can connect to stories and beliefs, offering meaning beyond just counting. Pythagoras’s view of three as a symbol of harmony, wisdom, and understanding felt like a beautiful way to think about how patterns emerge—not just in math, but in life.

In the end, my poem tries to capture a quiet moment of reflection, where those ideas settle in and become something felt, rather than just thought about. It’s a small exploration of how numbers can touch something deeper inside us.

Upcoming…

• A poem on aging:

  Age of Lichens, 17 January 2026

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