The best place to hide a secret is to whisper it to the clouds.
Sing them a melody composed of your deepest, soul-scorching secrets.
Or pen a poem on paper, and set the words ablaze, so the wisps of smoke would mingle upwards and disappear into the clouds.
Or blow all your secrets into a rainbow-coloured balloon and let it fly over the tree-tops into the blue sky and disappear into the white clouds yonder.
The clouds gather all your secrets by day, weaving together strand by misty strand of people’s disguised truths. And when night falls, they lay your secrets on the hillside, gently and quietly like a lullaby.
And then they wait.
When morning comes, the clouds glide down the slopes of the hill, biding their time, like a newly-wedded bride shyly lifting her veil to open up her heart’s desires to you.
And where your secrets lay all night now glisten mysterious drops of dew.
Here now, gone the next moment.
And your secrets dissipate into the rays of the morning sun, leaving you to pursue the promise of a new day, of a new beginning.