Odds Poem by Antonio Liao

surrender needs
not the hope, mixed down
with light,
as darkness echo
the clock of nowhere to open
the eyes and no one found
the silent of the night
whisper the tail
of the dream

savor the stream
in a willfully posture
where the future
return the vision of the past,
for no one knows
the end of every beginning
of the hour surpass, nay want
to stop the start of the transient
soul of the
living

fuel on
the focus and wonder
always the end
of sweet return in a new dawn
deeper fond