This is not a Dream

This is not a dream.

We often go through
the small iron door,

we often walk around
the garden of treasures.

What we say, you hear.
What you see, we see.

The oak leaves rustling in the wind
and the gleam of the Moon

and the blackberry bush,
the birds and the violets.

Everything’s so nice
in the silent twilight.

For Children of the Night
always remember the Truth,

this is not a dream.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

A Crack in the Sidewalk

Back from the past
I’ve seen cornflowers
growing from
a crack in the sidewalk.

Did the shadows behind
the windows of decrepit houses
smile at my broken dreams?
Walk your way the flowers said.

The lies of July make
the truth of Summer heard:
the darker the Night
the brighter the Stars.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Bible of the Poor

It is not a leather-bound book
standing proudly on a rosewood shelf.
It does not curse at misbelievers,
and cannot be used as an excuse.

Manuscript penned for every child of God,
calligraphy on silk paper,
it is the Bible of the Poor and consists of
only one word written in all languages.

Both the Blind and the Illiterate
can read those simple lines of light
for the Heart already knows
the Word revealed in the Bible of the Poor,

the only way that we can live,
the only way that we can grow,
the Bible of the Poor,
la Bible de l’Amour.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Absolutely True

Fureteventura

Absolutely no one
believed the dream fisher
when he told people about stars
floating on crystal clear waters,
turquoise waves of light,
and bright constellations
that had obviously survived the Night,
yet everything he said was

absolutely true.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Reflets sur la Mer, Fuerteventura © 2016 – F.G.M.