The Beauty of Autumn

How nice to stand
in the morning light
as the oak leaves turn gold
and life comes to an end.

How nice to be
followed by a bird
when silence meets
Silence.

How nice to see
through the Veil space and time
surprisingly intertwined
with one another.

The Eye and the World.
The Beauty of Autumn.
Consciousness. Endlessness.
Emptiness.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: the Messenger of Autumn
(Paul Klee, 1922)

God loves Gardens / Dieu aime les Jardins

Men like to build stone temples
with heavy studded doors
that they close properly
when they pretend to worship.

Do they really love each other?
Walk your own way and go
where the gardener kneels
every day,

where the Tree grows slowly,
where the Flower chants humbly
and where the patient Star shines
for every Pilgrim:

God loves Gardens.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Les hommes aiment construire
des temples de pierre
avec de lourdes portes cloutées
qu’ils ferment au jour de la prière.

S’aiment-ils vraiment les uns les autres ?
Passe ton chemin et va,
là où le jardinier
chaque jour s’agenouille,

là où l’Arbre grandit lentement,
où la Fleur psalmodie humblement
et où l’Etoile patiente brille
pour chaque pèlerin :

Dieu aime les jardins.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Stained Glass Window (The Mysterious Garden)
(Odilon Redon, c1905)

A Man of no Importance

I was a shadow child,
prodigal son guided by
the careful hands of Forgiveness,

lost soul made of star dust,
younger brother of words like
orphan and light.

I learned little by little
both from short lives
and long silences.

I finally became
a man of no importance:
I was everyone

and everyone was me.
The starry sky had reminded me
who I really am.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Star of the Hero
(Nicholas Roerich 1936)