Something Secret

"We dance round in a ring and suppose, While the secret sits in the middle and knows.” - Robert Frost

I have a secret. Not big. Not little either. Somewhere in between.

I'm not sure I should even call it a secret. Because that makes it seem a bit dramatic. It's just a thing I can't tell you. Yet.

What is a secret? Is it something we can't tell or choose not to? Is it something we keep by choice or by compulsion?

What is a secret? Is it something that suffocates its owner and intrigues all others? Is it something that lurks under the surface of spoken truth? Is it something that we choose to have or a possession borne from circumstance? Is it something that burrows deep and bubbles up, threatening the peace? Is it something that gets in the way or something that clears the way?

Can life be lived without secrets or are secrets part and parcel of humanity, of existence? Are secrets contagious? Do secrets die if left alone? Is a secret told no longer a secret? Does a secret never told grow bigger?

Can we keep secrets from ourselves? From each other? From the world? What would the world be without secrets? Pure? Boring? Unrecognizable?

I have a secret. Not big. Not little. Somewhere in between.

I can't wait to tell you. But I will.

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What is a secret? Do you have one? Or many? How have secrets affected your life?