a poet knows nothing best than a seer, nay neither <br />touches like a magician nor prays like a monk, yet! <br />feel the tremendous heart that breathes and sees the <br />oozing shadow of the light, a poet lives <br /> <br />Oh! what wonder! each word exists where <br />every poet has come to paste, as the world <br />turns its page every color the pen refreshes <br /> <br />as the poet begins to tell, every feeling makes it <br />to fulfill, though in every edge there is always some <br />sad stories that everybody could feel and relate <br /> <br />a poet always wins in every ink of a pen, there is <br />always pain, turning others' gain, the end <br />holds on to reign, and the heart of the immortal fight <br />has just begun, transcend beyond it rainbow's <br />plain, wherein every poetry the dying soul comes <br />to raise the wonderful surprises of life <br /> <br />as the fulfillment has gone, and every one's dream <br />has achieved and the poet now wishes to repose in the <br />lamp light grave the pen it lays, leaving the world to <br />be freed watching my hand to flee <br /> <br />wish me luck; the time has to come, where my day is <br />counted in the pen everyone is perfected and my <br />moment is for you to remember that in very write our <br />soul leads us to be upright and every way is alright, <br />and now haggle me to know that I am a poet at the <br />end of my life <br /> <br />a poet in a shining armor of light.........<br /><br />Antonio Liao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-16/
