The Mystery Of That Poem by Cheryl Jacob

There’s a mystery of that and this,
None of which I can crack.

What of the sock that goes in two
In that great absolution machine;
But comes out as one!
Where does the other go?

Perhaps to the haven where other ones have gone?

What of those blinkers that perch on the nose,
Those that make you see clearer;
But only to grow paws when you rest them down!
Where do they run off to?

Perhaps they go hiding lest you sit on them?

What of those caps that hides the nib,
That which prevents the stain on your heart;
But vanishes pretty fast when let go!
Where do they hide?

Perhaps they require a respite from our spites?

What of the thought that crosses our mind,
That which makes it all crystal clear;
But vanishes in the blink of an eye!
Where does it flee?

Perhaps it escapes so that we may live in our own circles?

What of the joke that your friend once told you,
That which made you smile for a mile;
But becomes a memory when you recall to mind!
What becomes of it?

Perhaps it lies in wait for when its time?

There is a mystery in these...none of which I can revise.
In their phantom they remain to be fathomed.
Shall I leave them be?
What shall I gain?
A loss of mystery perhaps...?
But then what will remain with me?
More knowledge... less mystery!
A trade not worthy it will be.
I love a mystery, and it loves me.
Friends we will remain
Each to the other
Loyal to entertain.
Mystery...of...this...let...it...remain.


(July 12,2011)