I cannot say what I have done today. I cannot speak of yesterday or my plans for tomorrow.

I cannot say what I have done today. I cannot speak of yesterday or my plans for tomorrow.
I cannot speak of work, for even where I am is confidential. I cannot say what I did today, for secrets and their keeping is the basis of my trade.
And in interviews I dig deep, but it is not gold I look for,
I look for darkness and confusion. I look for criminality, for weakness and for guilt.
I peer into the soul of another, and they speak to me of their darkness.
I leave unsettled, for I have uncovered the many hidden paths and secrets of the very devil himself.
This is my gift from God perhaps, for, in the year and a bit that I have practised this art: it is always I who can get the truth, and I must keep it secret, which I willingly do.
And what was once something, which in my childhood, I would see as the most salacious gossip, is boring to me,
Sin and evil have lost their mystique. I store away the information I have gleaned, and with it I have the tools to better assist the secret speaker.
And I do not speak of it. I say not a word, and yet I am 20 years older than I was a year and a bit ago.
And through me that divine thing, access to justice: persists. For if I were not bound to secrecy, if we were not all bound to secrecy in my godforsaken profession, justice would swiftly disappear.
And so, a secular priest, I hear many a confession. Though I do not save the soul, I’m better prepared to save the body and the temporal things that mankind depends upon to survive. Keeper of secrets, silent vault of rock and ashes, lawyer, this is my calling and my vocation. The secular priesthood, the foundation of peace and order.
I cannot say what I have done today… For if I were not a secret keeper, if my profession were not that of the mum men and silent women: you could not speak of a yesterday or at all of your any plans for tomorrow. Indeed, neither would exist at all.