Visionary, Poet, Dreamer Of Dreams Poem by Patti Masterman

Shalom the Freedman didn't fail, he never did,
He always spoke clearly from his heart
And he can never be faulted for that.

So many men mute, won't speak; or can't,
Live day to day in their small skin-suit,
Never look out eye holes, or sew them shut.

But Shalom had eyes, and he used them too,
Wrote everything down in a golden book;
It's there in his soul, wherever you look:

He was a lover, for life was his love,
Kept holding her close, kept talking her in;
A pen was placed within his hand

But he is not dead, and his words live.

Keep your words close by and never discount them,
Some things kept from view while we're still living,
That every fate marks the course of its end,
That every letter on some cloud attends,

And a dreamer must dream, and a poet must write,
Alone in the dark, in the clear star-light,
He writes what he knows; or else what will be-
He’s writing the truth, of what others must see.