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.