we’ll walk on flower petals
leaving no trace
we’ll talk to a billion stars
without a sound

we’ll read
with closed eyes
the Word about
the Origin of us

then we’ll vanish
into the Light
when we meet again
in the Gardens of the Night

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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Fluttering leaves.
Shades of orange and brown.
Autumnal holograms
illuminated from within.

Fall is a collage maker,
a painter of renown,
but it seems passers-by see
nothing.

I’m smiling, not really dreaming.
Time has been set free.
This is almost eternity,
and you are so close to me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

If you show me
how to walk at night
in the light of myriad stars
I know I will find the path.

If you give me a sign
I most certainly will see your face
through the bright dust of constellations
and your hand will guide me.

If I look far enough
when you speak so clearly
the silent language of Midnight skies
I think I will be able to understand,

and if you whisper in my ear
golden words to tell me about
the glowing Breath of God,
I will not fear death anymore.

© Frédéric Georges Martin