The Mysterious took my Mother when I was 23. My Brother (my only blood sibling) Mysteriously disappeared when I was 44. And the Mystery took my Father when I was 45. Pieces of my life have been swept away and pieces are all that remain.

There is no one left to laugh with about adventures in my childhood, no one who was present on family camping trips or vacations, no one except the Mystery.

So I hunt the Mystery in hopes of finding those it has carried off. I look for signs and occasionally find a shimmering clue that wafts away in the bright light of examination by others.

Mystery has woven the sharpness of pain amid the awe of beauty and joy in ways that pierce my life at odd moments. Mystery is home to the Muse that guides my path and shines upon my soul in ways that restore my heart and sanity. Mystery is big, endless and powerful, but still I stalk it.

Someday I'll capture Mystery and surrender into the glory where there is no separation and pain. Then I'll forgive Mystery, for we'll be the same thief, the same painter of canvas, weaver of cloth and I will learn to leave shimmering clues to entice the others who'll follow.