..Shh!..

You possess them, have a bag full of those. They are your Achilles's Heel- they are also your strength. At times your Nemesis, at times your nymph. We all know we have them, yet we try to obfuscate the issue.

Secrets.

They remind us of all the wrong we've done. They are an augury of our remedial course in future. A reason for your fall, a pot of gold to preserve. Secrets when revealed make you unclad- the facade gone, the being stark visible.

You guard them with childish care, they are your true concomitants. The power to be unpredictable lies in the way you treat them, fair.

There is a Master of Secrets. He knows what resides in your being. In him you repose your faith, and to him you are disrobed. He has his way of sweating out your secrets, you do it with nonchalance. And before you know you've spilled the beans, the precarious smile sprouts on his calm countenance. Behold your treasure chest, and let not one know what lies inward. He who knows must be humoured well, for in his hands your future unfolds.

It's about time the secrets were shelved in a corner far far away. Shh! Don't call them upon. Let them rest, if they must. You have many more to make.