The Philosopher's Keys

The mustiness in the room seemed appropriate for the workplace of an ageing philosopher who had died with his pen in his hand. I entered the room with trepidation. Not many had crossed this threshold but my job was to manage the estate. The old mahogany desk with its scratched, ink-stained surface and two drawers stood in front of the sash window which overlooked the walled garden. It was a mathematically ordered garden with rectangular vegetable, fruit and flower beds separated by gravel paths. In the centre was a circular bed with a tall obelisk in the middle. It suited the garden of a person with a neatly ordered mind. But it hadn’t been touched since its owner's death.

There was nothing on the desk except a computer, a cup of pens and a writing pad. I tried the drawers. The left hand one contained a sealed envelope - the only occupant. There was a title on the envelope - The key to happiness. I opened it.

Happiness comes like an eight-year-old girl

who spills across the floor like a wound-up toy.

She’s a bouquet that brightens the day

and blooms wherever she stands.

I opened the second drawer - another envelope. This one was titled - The key to wellbeing. Once again I opened it.

This piece of paper that you hold has travelled far.

It has endured many transformations,

from the forest that bore it

to these gathered thoughts.

On your own journey

take your time,

trust your senses,

pause to smell every wildflower,

stop to feel the sun on your face.

Listen to the birds sing.

I put the poems to one side and switched on the computer, an ancient IBM colossus that took minutes to warm up before displaying its welcome - The key to a good  life.

The path you travel is long and steep in places.

There are many ways through the foothills.

Some are rocky whilst some are dead ends.

Obstacles will appear before you;

they can be circumvented.

 

Seek the truth;

it will not disappoint.

Do not imitate enemies;

pay them no heed.

It is the best revenge.

It is up to you to ensure that no malice 

finds a home in your soul.

 

You need not journey alone.

Take comfort from the quiet joys of brotherhood.

However,

choose your own path.

Other travellers may direct you.

Be wary;

not all are good guides.

Eventually the route you choose is yours alone.

 

As you near the summit the path becomes more evident

but you will reach this point without 

the comfort of companions.

I switched off the computer and closed the drawers gently. Looking out of the window I saw the once neat garden with the obelisk standing sentinel but the beds now weed-covered and fading into winter. I locked the door behind me and kept the key.