For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? (Khalil Gibran, “The Prophet”)
Wild flowers bloom
then fade.
Words flow in silence.
Tears go by.
Will we look
at the gates of Heaven
the same way
you were gazing at the sky?
How can we be sure
that Time and Love
work together
to lead us safely
out of the Maze?
I am the clock without hands
the murky water of the River Lethe
the suspension bridge that has
neither beginning nor end
yesterday
I will be
tomorrow
I was
in very truth
I am not
for I am
the Unreality of Time
~
illustration: Black Marble Clock (detail)
(Cézanne, c1870)
If I tell you I saw
blue suns shining
over the mountains
fragrant pines standing in awe
as clouds turn silver
pristine water reflecting
the sea-blue waves of Time
worlds behind the world
flowers within the flower
and through the veils of light
the beating Heart of Life
the beauty of Darkness
the stunning Secret of Death
will you believe me?
~
Jasione des Montagnes
Pyréenes, France © 2017– F.G.M.
Un matin de mai
j’ai vu sur un mur de Paris
écrit en lettres rouges
le mot AMOUR.
Cela m’a rendu triste,
triste
car d’Amour
le monde manque tant,
et j’ai soudain pensé
plein de regrets
à tous mes “j’aurais-dû”
à tous mes “j’aurais-pu”.
Alors un ange ou peut-être
cet enfant en chacun de nous
a murmuré
“il n’est jamais trop tard !”
Un matin de mai
j’ai vu sur un mur de Paris
écrit en lettres rouges
le mot AMOUR.
~
On a May morning
I saw the word LOVE
written in red
on a wall in Paris.
That made me feel sad,
so sad
for the world craves
a Love so deep!
And I regretfully thought
about all my
“I-should-have”
and “I-could-have”…
Then an angel
or maybe the child in each of us
whispered
“It’s never too late…”
On a May morning
I saw the word LOVE
written in red
on a wall in Paris.
~
illustration: image chef
the rain falls
on the just and the unjust
and music
flows
stars as fireflies
agreed
despite knowing
their fate
every seed knows
what light is
Love needs time
to create
let it tear
at your heartstrings
for God plays
the violin
The birds have flown,
the tree has grown,
and nobody sits on the bench
but a sad and lonely child.
Did the gray heron
stop fishing in the pond?
Do water-lilies bloom
forever and beyond?
Time plays the piano
and brings me solace.
Miracles or Memories.
Stillness and Beauty.
Dreams
at the edge of Eternity.
Oh! You look so pretty
when you come and sit by me!
Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring
not forgetting
the fifth Season
Happiness
under the cherry tree
~
Serment sous le cerisier, Kyoto © 2017– F.G.M.
