Dots

when connected

a story forms..

in the connecting

a certain glimpse

a spark divine..

illusive it is and

without notice the

 dots grow dark

becoming shells..

we are wrapped

once more..

we hunger then

for new connecting

 another glimpse..

with discoveries of

new dots and stories
hopefully we know

the life of a dot

is sweet and short..

but the connecting

is always sweet...

responding to Mae's
poem "cocooned"
on Hello Poetry