THROUGH THE WINDOW

By John Herlihy

A flower in a buttonhole;
It smells fresh and gleams.
But what lies hidden within its petals
Is there more to it than it means?

Calligraphy on an aging scroll,
Harbors secrets beyond what it seems.
Ancient meanings uttered by a troll,
With otherworldly, universal themes.

Virtue hides its true value,
From unholy and sinister eyes.
Virtue can be called perfection,
That goes unnoticed by villainous spies.

The wind rides high across the waters,
Attempting to weave a mysterious spell.
It howls an eerie message,
Whose meaning is impossible to tell.

The seed keeps silent inside its vestment,
Protected by shell and husk and coat,
An anchor that makes a testament,
Keeping the soul steady and afloat.

Everything has a window,
That gives view to its inner world.
Whether it be virtue, seed, wind,
Their breeze an infinity will unfurl.