The Aliens Laugh at Our Numbers

They appear without sound or spectacle,
just a presence, like a door opening
we never noticed.

We hurry to impress them with equations, proofs, spirals,
all the clever things we have built.

One leans in and speaks directly into the mind:
You are still using numbers?

It is not mockery.
It is the gentle surprise of someone watching a child
who has not yet learned to stand.

They look over our systems, calculus and topology included,
and with a light touch everything trembles.

Closed system, one says.
Closed minds.

Another points at our proofs.
You build ladders inside a box
and never wonder who made the box.

Their mathematics is not symbols.
It is movement, resonance,
a place they step into.

They do not compute.
They simply perceive.

For a moment we glimpse what they see.
All our certainty is only a story
meant to keep the dark away.

Before they leave, they offer one message
like breath fading on glass:

Escape your system
and numbers will not matter.

Then they vanish,
and our small ladders remain,
leading nowhere.