The Mystery

He had put it all away. All of it
Left in the attic the brushes
The dried paint
The painting,
Lost.

Some days, if you are willing
Or ready
You meet yourself

Changed for sure for there is no other way
Out at the edge
Still searching, still
Wanting

To be drawn
To draw near
To draw down

Just one mystery
But not any mystery
The mystery
From which everything comes.