Keep Dreaming Poem by Ernesto Barca

T'is not to be found in pocket or hand,
No silken robes or words expose,
T'is not sung, said or sounded loud
Nor in wreaths of glory shown.

No letters can its image form,
No brush with strokes recraft,
Truth be grim for those of faith,
For faith cannot atone,
As sun-kissed dawn the day awakes
Why still it sleeps alone.

Searching for the ghost of love
Through lustful search for deed,
‘Tis futile and forever vain,
To dreams from there to lead

Icy pebbles from the sky they tap
As harpists pluck the strings,
His song a man his heart shall write
Through pen and brush it sings,
For spoken word shall oft repeat
Soft words which tongues run lame,
Whose purpose the creep of time will rot
Allowing dreams to tame.