I woke one morning to a whisper

From the breath of magic itself

And into my ear a message crept but soft

Mystery, it said, with drama in its hiss,

May land wherever it choose . . .

I wondered what the hell it meant by this

I rose from my bed to see the morning sunshine

It colored all things yellow that lay within my realm,

And colored gold what sparkled within the dew

Like the golden wash of a great idea

Spread forth from a painters brush

So very cheery, I thought with unusual calm

Outside two stray terriers frolicked in the grass

They tugged and dragged a shining cloak

The color of the sun

They drug it to my doorstep placed at the threshold where I stood

Tilted frisky heads together in wait

Of praise for what they’d done

The cloth was fine and bejeweled

With stones and threads of gold

I sensed a pattern in it. I threw the dogs a bone

Off and away they scampered

Vanishing over a horizon that looked rather odd to me

Like something that didn’t belong there. On that picture perfect morn

What does one do with a cloak? I thought as I sought to put it to it’s use

Is it to bring one warmth, or perhaps to hide one away from view?

And once beneath the beautiful exterior , a whole new answer did ensue

You lured me beneath you

Though your presence wasn’t near

And now for once what lay behind me was perfectly clear

Beneath the cloak a place lay

Where one could solve a puzzle game

Without the gaze of others whose pointing fingers hand out blame

Beneath here we can visit where we are forbidden now to go

To face the vile and villains

And make peace in worlds we left long ago

Because we’d best not hurt them that we go there.