buried in

God be thank’d, the meanest of his creatures
Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with,
One to show a woman when he loves her.
This I say of me, but think of you, Love!
This to you—yourself my moon of poets!
Ah, but that ’s the world’s side—there ’s the wonder—
Thus they see you, praise you, think they know you.
There in turn I stand with them and praise you,
Out of my own self, I dare to phrase it.
But the best is when I glide from out them,
Cross a step or two of dubious twilight,
Come out on the other side, the novel
Silent silver lights and darks undream’d of,
Where I hush and bless myself with silence. One Word More (Robert Browning)

*winks

Often, the raw truth of one's perspective and perception remains unspoken, unmentioned, undiluted, and untold. Symbolically it's a kin to a cake recipe, a new way of living, and the lost.

The containment and lockdown of information is what makes the "seek" far more tempting. Speculations and conspiracies only fuel the keeper with more satisfaction. However, can you trust anyone with the unsaid?

Concrete measures offers me the impregnable quarter I need to spill out my thoughts.. But the most bullet-proof alternative would be to remain tight-lipped myself. Those are my secrets...