Restless thoughts, poised at the edge of revelation,
Dancing, laughing just beyond my reach,
Calling to me like a mythical, fairy-tale creature.
I catch glimpses of their beauty, but
Unwilling words, refusing to be summoned to their duty,
Leave me alone with my abstractions.
What if the threads could for once be sewn into coherence…
Pointing away from their misleading source and
Instead toward something concrete?
What discoveries might lie alone in the depths of the mind,
Unable to be heard or seen by a reckless world?
What price will I pay for not finding them?
But no… my thoughts are changing again, fading,
Never following a line that can be traced, but rather flitting
Back and forth among the weeds like butterflies.
I will never catch them… but I know they are there.
They are become my secret that I shall never reveal.
Not even to myself.