The Locked Room--A Riddle

There is a dark room in my house
that’s nearly always locked.
I try the handle every day but
the door has a mind of its own.

Now and then it opens wide
revealing the room entire
--different each time, full of
jumbled, shrouded things,
a different size and shape and
function: ballroom, bedroom,
kitchen, study, attic, den; each
mysteriously functional but
ineffable, inscrutable.

Sometimes it opens just enough
for me to enter, clumsily,
to trip, tumble, fumble my
way to the far side.
Frequently it seems wedged on some
frustrating obstacle just out of sight,
leaving me to peer at possibilities
through the crack.

Most times it’s just locked,
sequestered, unrecoverable.