making sense of dots

a man can believe anything, if he puts his mind to it. dots become symbols, becomes religion, becomes myth, becomes reality - reality parts when the insensible beats up logic, passion rules, passion is flawed passion creates meaning. logic bends, breaks apart from reality, finds dots quite pretty. dancing in the dark, faces unseen, touches unknown, meaning loses to a kiss. bid farewell to a spiral of fleeting memories slowly being erased, with the rhythm that is fast, hard, i can hear the beat, can you? dum, dum, dum di dum, it beats. a wild fire scorching, erasing memories and logic. dots, swirls, patterns take shape, or is it imagination? does it matter when belief creates life? beat, dum, di dum di di di dum swirls, patterns become scattered, dots are the worlds we live in, identities created from beliefs, believing is real, how the puppet laughs, scorns believing is real, till proven false. dots, swirls, patterns no longer emerging and the masses parted to a pearly gate whose attendants recognized not the ticket given, a counterfeit they said: how, why? but the dots did not explain themselves, angels and attendants they were the dancing partners practiced each night, each solitude taken as a refuge from the swirling patterns, a kiss in the dark whose lips felt like an angel! was it really? or what was hope, fantasied, never ground in anything other than a belief.