The Mystery – Dorothy Walters

Some come at it
with weights and measures,
some waving a sieve.

Some sing to it,
ballads and carols,
hoping to coax forth
its hidden center,
unwind the sheath
of who it is.

Some tap on it
or deal heavy blows
with hammers
trying to smash
its thick shield,
force it to bow down.

Some seek ways to clamber in,
explore its hidden vaults
and chambers.

Some lie down beside it,
breathe its cool scent,
become its own self.