The Old Becomes The New Poem by Antonio Liao

surrender makes the world poor
for even the darkest star brings to light
and the cry of the baby
sake the earth with painful remembrance
to take

loud and clear
the waves turn stone to pieces, and the
every worth of gold and silver is
made easy to melt, be alert
nothing compare than to pain of a mother's
birth

be not be mistaken the hands have the
key to settle down the footstep
of every miles you make, even the
harmony of the chords have broken the
edge of the earth return

the day does not settle the horizon,
only your dream that awake, be the single
strand of every wave
as you brings the sand to the shore