Axiom

An axiom stands, quiet and sure,
A truth accepted without proof—
Like the sunrise that paints the sky
In soft gold, without question why.

It whispers through the halls of thought,
A foundation on which we are taught
To build our reason, stack our lore,
Each theorem resting evermore.

In geometry’s calm embrace,
Parallel lines keep their steadfast space,
Or in the realm of numbers stark,
One plus one will always make two’s mark.

Yet axioms are not merely cold,
They hold the wonder, brave and bold—
The quiet promise that beneath
The chaos lies a depth beneath.

So let us honour this firm creed,
The starting point from which we proceed,
For in its simple, steadfast grace
Lies the first step of every trace.