After midnight’s warning signs, the gates went half‑closed tight,
A funding fight in marble halls spilled out into the night.
They’re calling for body cams and badges you can’t hide,
No profiling at the doorstep, a warrant to go inside.
But the engines keep on humming where the border fences run,
A mega bill from days ago keeps that mission on.
While flyers line for screening, and storms still call for aid,
The Coast Guard hearts keep beating, some working without pay.
Sources:
Hold on, hold out, the world keeps turning,
Pages flare but we keep learning.
Headlines roar, the chords grow higher,
Sing through smoke, become the choir.
If the old maps burn in the wind’s desire,
We’ll draw new roads with a steadfast wire.
Hold the light, hold the line,
Till the morning reads a kinder sign.
Then a pen crossed out a finding that once named the poisoned air,
Unfastened rules on tailpipes and the power plant’s share.
They called it liberation, said the costs would all fall down,
But California raised its voice, and suits rose town to town.
A former voice from yesteryear warned health was on the line,
And clerks began their counting for a courthouse, long, uphill climb.
From chamber door to highest bench, the echoes set to ring,
Over what we owe the children, and the breath in everything.
Sources:
Hold on, hold out, the world keeps turning,
Pages flare but we keep learning.
Headlines roar, the chords grow higher,
Sing through smoke, become the choir.
If the old maps burn in the wind’s desire,
We’ll draw new roads with a steadfast wire.
Hold the light, hold the line,
Till the morning reads a kinder sign.
Across the seas, the harbor lights fell cold on hidden mail,
A titan of the trade stepped down, caught in a haunted trail.
A chilling line about a “torture” tape, the island’s whispered name,
Masseuses in the margins, and a long‑kept, sordid frame.
Investors pulled the handbrake, the ships still moved the world,
New captains took the tally where the DP banners swirled.
A congressman said, I see you, in that dark‑replying thread,
And silence felt like thunder in the places power treads.
Sources:
In Munich’s vaulted meeting rooms, the snow fell on the past,
A chancellor said the rulebook’s gone, the old world couldn’t last.
A deep cut crossed the ocean, and a warning found its tone:
Even giants on a good day can’t afford to walk alone.
He spoke of talks with Paris, of a different kind of shield,
While a statesman from across the sea said old truths had been unsealed.
Another leader answered back, defended Europe’s say,
As Zelensky carried winter’s war and hopes for a brokered day.
Sources:
Hold on, hold out, the world keeps turning,
Pages flare but we keep learning.
Headlines roar, the chords grow higher,
Sing through smoke, become the choir.
If the old maps burn in the wind’s desire,
We’ll draw new roads with a steadfast wire.
Hold the light, hold the line,
Till the morning reads a kinder sign.
Down in Tucson, desert dusk keeps secrets in its hand,
An anchor’s mother vanished like a footprint in the sand.
The Bureau raised the bounty, a shadow came in black,
A hiker’s pack on camera, an Ozark‑lettered pack.
A man who wrote a ransom note walked out to daylight’s breath,
While agents knocked on every door, to push back against death.
She was last seen on a winter night; the family holds the phone,
And every porch light burning says: please bring this mother home.
Sources:
In Dhaka’s streets the ballots bloomed where students once stood fast,
The rising tide that swept a throne has found its voice at last.
A leader back from exile breathes a promise to the square,
While an old flag sits outside the race, its colors in the air.
An Islamist opposition takes the benches face to face,
A vote to cap the seasons of a prime minister’s place.
From Delhi’s nod to embassy calls, the greetings cross the sky,
A country writes a chapter where the future learns to fly.
Sources:
Hold on, hold out, the world keeps turning,
Pages flare but we keep learning.
Headlines roar, the chords grow higher,
Sing through smoke, become the choir.
If the old maps burn in the wind’s desire,
We’ll draw new roads with a steadfast wire.
Beat the drum, ring the bell, lift the names from grief and fire,
From courtrooms, ports, and border lines—to hope we all conspire.
One more time, raise it higher,
Till the morning reads a kinder sign.
