I started writing; I made a dot, a dot of infinite
possibilities.
It could be the tittle to an I, the top to a L or the cross
to a X,
Or simply a period to nothing.
It could stretch anywhere in two dimensions and write a story,
Or spiral around in blues and greens and paint a Monet.
It was all in a dot, the potential to expand.
So I let it stay within,
and let it be a dot of infinite possibilites.
