Dandelions and the Sun
are not hard things to draw.

No matter if you have
no colored pencils:

outline your hand
starting near your heart,

the Soul is a child
who loves drawing

and flowers abound
in the garden of stars!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Fleur ou soleil ? © 2018– F.G.M.

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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)

 

give Him a broken umbrella
He’d like to get wet in the rain

give Him seven-league boots
He dreams to walk among the stars

give Him the closed book of destiny
He can guess the story

give Him a bit of your time
and listen to your heartbeat

He loves to hear
the sound of a Life

alive

© Frédéric Georges Martin

rain makers, old dreamers
bird watchers needing to know

we come from an island
not far beyond the sea

we are shades of blue and gold
brush strokes by Gauguin

and we are going to
the land of the Living

a world in a grain of sand
so very close at hand

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?Right part of the painting (Paul Gauguin, 1897-1898)

Go where ferns shiver with delight
and walk among the trees
until you hear their verdant breath.

Trees can read your mind.
Trees all share their dreams.
Choose the One who chooses you.

Encircle your tree with your arms,
then gently press your cheek
to its rough trunk.

Your heart beats.
So does the heartwood.
Stop questioning!

All is understood.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Gothic Forest (Eyvind Earle, 1980)

“Verily, verily, I am blue!”
a yellow flower said
“…and whoever believes in me will be given
a glimpse of the true nature of things.”

*

This was certainly
a butterfly’s dream,
but things are never as they seem
and dreams give us rainbow wings.

*

O wise wild Flowers,
erudite Mentors,
Keepers of the hidden Hour:
why do we not trust you?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Fleur jaune © 2018 – F.G.M.