People say that it starts with a dot,

I say– it were just some poor sheep.

Counting them till midnight,

lulled me to sweet sleep.

Soon enough, the counting stretched to daytime,

and the nightmare began.

Curiousity piped up at first though,

but the dance of the numbers was the next number.

Variables abound, equations making shapes,

formulae sprouting all over, constants rot( t )ing in my mind.

Pages after pages of notes filled with black ink,

going on about dots smaller than a drop of the same ink.

Different variations of the same numbers,

some real, some point, some even imaginary;

and infinity not being one of them, 

even when referred to as one.

Theorems abound everywhere– 

fearing your proofs might just turn to spoofs.

Newton played to his whims for an year or two,

and we suffer for eons to fathom functions.

Limiting things to infinity,

and still searchin’ for absolution.

Breaking things down to delta

and forming them again, just for the sake of it.

Learnt the strength of the Fibonacci,

spiraling outward to balance shapes.

Crunched figures from standard deviation,

And used regression for correlating.

Trying hard each time

to achieve another roundabout way;

plotting the knowledge out

might have just made it easy.

I wonder if it really was that complex,

or was it plain and simple

counting, yeah, just counting,

all the time?