SEE SOMETHING, SAY NOTHING.

I consider myself to dwell not in the halls of the great philosophers. Neither do I deserve a seat at the counsel of the wise and learned; my works might not make it to the scrolls of the libraries.

But folks having beseeched me to explore the work of arts in writing, I today therefore unfold papers, the quill and ink, and a stream of thoughts flows forth from my mind and splashes in words that I so write.

I'd consider myself a roadman; an observer who travels through life in adventure. Life's a journey anyway. As some of you might relate, you know of one whose eyes shut at the first step of embarkment. Thus, missing on the passing trees, the streets of cobblestone, the flapping wings of birds, or the waves of the sea. I stay woke in life. Not necessarily enlightened, but I ponder on that which my eyes set upon. Indulge me in this therefore.

I awoke in the morn as usual with nothing on the contrary in mind or place. I sorted a few things to carry, and packed my bags for a journey back home. Down the flight of steps my uncle stood keenly studying the progress of his developing estate. "Greetings uncle," I gladly started off with my fist clenched out to meet his in a bump as so was the newly way of exchanging greetings.

"Are you headed to the place of worship?"

"Not really. I'm headed back home." I said as I adjusted the strap on my shoulder.

"Pass them my regards." He said with a slight bow and a tap on his hat to signal his bid for farewell.

The caravan station is quite a lengthy distance that one might consider to hitch a ride or pay a rider to drop one off but on this occasion, I chose to walk. 'Walking is healthy.' I said to myself after a thought to rather save the few coins I had for the journey. An economist, you might call me.

I now near the market place and the volumes of people begin to increase. I secure my bags and belonging closer to me, my body fully conscious of every item in my pockets. Along the paths I chose to walk, a man trod before me. A local minding his daily dues, he seemed to me. I bother not with the people I cross paths with, but in minding my steps my eyes fell to a bunch rolled and covered in a worn out clothing that fell from the man's pocket. From the holes of the clothing I could tell it was money. Its total summing to roughly fifty thousand notes rolled and wrapped.

Now, let us reason together. What choices would come to you? Think not much since you can only choose from the following: pass it by, pick it up and shove it in your pockets, or pick it up and give to the rightful owner. Whatever ye chooses I judge not, because as I said, I am an observer.

As my mind fought the battle of decisions, I fell short of time as another man that walked by my side quickly dashed his hand down and picked it to himself. We both stood still as the possessor kept on walking forth oblivious of his loss. The man I now stood with turned to look at me, his eyes bright and wide reflecting a flash of warning that I dare not speak. His face was somewhat bruised from scuffles he has had, as it seemed. A clear site of a man of less decency. He tilted his head to the side a cue for me to follow where he leads. Notably, to a place we would split 'our' shares.

I lifted my right hand to signal a rejection to his invite and yet an indication that he has my word I'll dare not spill his pot of rotten filthiness. "Head on your way." I said as I left his company and headed to the station. All this time, my chest felt a burden of heaviness and yet still a flame burned from the inside.

What was my soul saying to me? Was I guilty? Guilty that I didn't partake in the shares that would add to my finances? Or, guilty for having seen something and saying nothing? Or yet, saved from the dubious ways of scammers whose recent ways are inextricably intertwined with links to innocence all in facade as usual daily occurrences.

Pass thy verdict then dear reader, that you now relate me to the Priest or to the Levite that passed by the half dead roadman from Jerusalem to Jericho as told in the parables.

Nonetheless, my soul's at ease now for it tells,'Don't trouble thyself for you partook not in the dividends of the shares, nor did thee get on the way of the life of men.' As most say, minding the business of your own.

Life is always a battle. Sharpen thy swords and choose your battles keenly. Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober.