Sirens on the river, winter gnaws the wire,
Engines hum above the grids, a city starved of fire.
A promised pause is over, the dark comes back to stay,
Kitchens burn with candles while the front line shifts its clay.
Tenements without a heartbeat, breath turned into steam,
A power plant remembers when the lights were more than dreams.
Sources:
Hold the line, keep the lamps alive,
From frozen streets to marble heights.
Every border, bargain, shadowed drive—
We’re stitching day from broken nights.
Raise a song where the headlines fray,
Let truth be loud when the world turns gray.
Clock hands on the Capitol, a gate about to close,
Badges in the spotlight where a colder wind now blows.
Mothers at the airports, storm maps in a van,
Coastlines, codes, and motorcades all tied to one thin plan.
After shots in Minneapolis, demands for eyes and names,
A warrant at the doorway, an end to roving games.
Sources:
Hold the line, keep the lamps alive,
From frozen streets to marble heights.
Every border, bargain, shadowed drive—
We’re stitching day from broken nights.
Raise a song where the headlines fray,
Let truth be loud when the world turns gray.
A motorcade to Washington, the blinds are drawn inside,
A prime minister with dossiers, a president who decides.
Talk of deeper curbs on rockets, quiet wars by proxy hands,
And a promise to unwrite a rule that shaped the climate’s plans.
Meetings pulled in early, whispers sharpened thin,
Maps of desert ranges where the sky remembers sin.
Sources:
A screen inside a hearing room, a voice that will not speak,
“Grant me grace,” she says, “I’ll tell you everything you seek.”
Names like thunderclouds are drifting over sealed file drawers,
A chair calls it a letdown as the press waits at the doors.
She swears she holds the stories that could wash the altars clean,
While justice sifts the ashes of an island’s shattered sheen.
Sources:
Hold the line, keep the lamps alive,
From frozen streets to marble heights.
Every border, bargain, shadowed drive—
We’re stitching day from broken nights.
Raise a song where the headlines fray,
Let truth be loud when the world turns gray.
A pistol coughs in Moscow, a shadow on the snow,
A general of secrets falls where winter traffic flows.
The watchers say the trail runs west, to cities trimmed with flags,
But the names they cast like anchors never answer, never brag.
Silence hums in telegrams, denials left unsent,
While the chessboard counts its pieces by the shape of each event.
Sources:
The hills of ancient olives watch a ledger cross its lines,
New papers let the buyers come where fences once confined.
The chamber at the UN warns the door to peace grows thin,
A truce by the sea is brittle while the settlers press again.
From Riyadh up to Brussels, from Cairo to the Strand,
A chorus says these measures carve a future out of sand.
Sources:
Hold the line, keep the lamps alive,
From frozen streets to marble heights.
Every border, bargain, shadowed drive—
We’re stitching day from broken nights.
Light the grid, fund the guard,
Cut the fuse on secrets charred.
Truth to power, lock to key,
Open roads to what can be.
Raise your hands, lift your voice,
Turn the dark into a choice—
Strike the chord, let it ring,
Till wires hum and people sing.
