Once upon a time, there was a simple blogger who liked to use the 'next blog' button. A lot. And yes, that blogger would, in fact, be me. One day on my push-button travels, I fell suddenly into a magical world of poetry. Sonnets, to be precise. They were not all equally beautiful, some were downright doggerel, but most were entrancing. Even the mediocre ones were charming.
It was clear that I had stumbled upon something I shouldn't have. Hardly anyone had seen this blog, and no one had ever commented on a sonnet. Or so I thought. I made a comment on a particularly enticing rhyme, yet visiting again, I found my comment had been erased. This was a secret sonnet diary blog. I so wanted to link to this special universe - in fact, I believe I did link it, then repented almost immediately and took the link away. Who am I to be so indiscreet? And then, as so often happens with these things, I forgot about it for many months.
And then, this evening, the image of this page came back to me. Could I still remember the address? Did it still exist? Was it still maintained? Was it still so realistically sublime? I could, it did, it was, and most importantly, it was. But it is still a publicly published secret. Almost no one has seen it. No comment can be found on any post, though commenting is, in theory, permitted. It's a regularly updated conundrum.
A conundrum that I would like to share with the world, or at least with a few of my more poetically inclined fellows, and yet the whole point is that it is clearly not for sharing. I would like to comment, but I cannot bring myself to do it, knowing that it will disappear, like writing in milk. I would like to contact the poet, but I cannot, having but a pen name and no more.
Further proof for the lesson that life is full of secrets and intrigue. I know that there are things, both good and bad, big things to me, which I make a conscious decision not to talk about on blog. I'm sure that's true for most people who give information in public spaces such as this. And it would never occur to me to share someone's secrets, if I should be told them or find them out. Yet, a whole blog that is secret, that I feel conflicted over.
*photo info: Eloquence, in the assembly room of the Portuguese Parliament*