Window to the soul

My mystery turns on the strength of my lashes
– but gaze in my eyes and you’ll see such strange flashes
of wisdom and truth – all that mankind may seek.
Try to tell me what’s there and these eyes make you weep.
I shall never divulge what is hidden in depths
that one might yet term ‘limpid’, another ‘quite vexed’,
for I, one large conundrum, can seem to some men
while opinions differ – what I think of them.
But you’re itching to take a quick peek ‘neath my brows
I can tell. ┬áDon’t be shy, but step up – try to browse.
My thoughts are my own, and quite safe from your view
as what you’ll find reflected is dreamt up by you.

Scenery

Treetops in the sunlight, rushing by the window, bearing their burdens proudly, majestically, regally. No meek shall inherit the earth, but long after we are but dust, the trees and plants will march ever onward, holding their standards high, gaily waving green-clad boughs in the cool of the evening, and rustling to give their best to the breeze and receive the whisper of news in return.