The Secret

In and out the ribbons fly.
Like silk daggers,
thoughts,
from brain to brain.

Caught a whirlwinds grasp,
round in spiral,
soft scarlet helix.
Words lost, ideas spun.
Here the dream's begun.

Can we track the track?
See the thread?
Trace the the path
from alive to dead.
Step by step and
tread by tread.
The thought, but not the proof is red.

Seek the truth,
and find its ghost.
All is now said,
and sought.
The catch caught.
The secret exposed.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.