Confidence man.  The small coveted whisper of the surly gent with the raised eyebrow and an over sized jacket leaning over with cupped hand to tell you something meant for no one but you.  The poker face.  Having heard the results of an horrible invention gone off to perfection, you rejoice internally but the outside must be calm waters for the digital flashers record every dimple, wrinkle and stain.  The churlish grin, adept in the surety that steps, measured, calculated steps have been taken by unseen men to put aside any response you were thinking of taking.  Falsified adoration, having recently left the arms of a passionate lover, yet knowing that was a moment, as the money, debt, family and true wealth lay within this loveless lifetime.  She asked that I never divulged where the answers were hidden to protect her claim to innocence and to avoid the successes of evil men, I always wondered why she disappeared after securing that pledge.

Secrets held by the mountains and valleys, peaks and passionate reckonings of man.  Are they good?  Is there ever a time when something being held in check from one party who couldn’t be privy to information of another party without a third party or perhaps themselves being inculcated in derision?  What then of the times when those to whom the knowledge is owed are kept from its handling, in the dark so to say?  What of the secrets kept from those who would desire or demand accountability for treason or Philandery or plunder?  Am I a lesser man for having demonstrated a willingness to expend a secret claim, disregarding oath, that all men might live free in the notion that nothing threatening to their lives, their honor, their pursuits be kept that they might be ill prepared or incapable of action?  What then of those whispers meant for ears select?  Is the validity of a secret only seen by those from whom the knowledge kept?  Or is there a noble, dark, handsome, refined character of man that would only share that which may be shared in privilege, in tribe, class or membership?  What then of the information  that would cure all men’s palsy but make some men wealthy beyond worldly consideration?

Secrets are false.  Tidings of some special relationship, held tight the knowledge with which entrusted, but to what end?  Dark pleasured things, disobedience, dalliance and evasive technologies, somehow become the playthings and apportionment of men who would increase their worth through representative fealty.  Is he of worthy character?  Then what of those quiet whispers kept by kings, of which their release to the ruled would set men marching or heads rolling?  What then is the value of a hidden kiss?  Men of intent, with ideals of their elevated understanding, determining the direction of families placed in the hands of those thought trustworthy without understanding of the nature of Secret Society and the ploys of engineering.  What then when secrets kept are the answer to the dilemma that faces normal man?  Shall those who have some conviction alarm them or simply play along for safety or self gratification and station?  This is the stage upon which we are set, players we, with some given ideas, knowledge and plans beyond our ignoble birthing.  What does fair have to do with it all?  This is life, this is war, to them the survival of the fittest and guess what we are their pray.