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O rescue help the boys in dreadful cave.
Those adventurers could meet their demise
Unless in hour of crisis comes the brave;
But one by one emerge and none yet dies,
Unscathed though bruised from historic ordeals,
Escaped the jaws of death. Those left behind,
Our prayers they overcome their perils.
The tears flowing freely cruel minutes grind.
A strange surging water locking them in,
The force push them up to higher chambers.
Upon a mount waited; with anxious kin,
With families, monks believe still embers.
We salute rescuers' courage to save,
And one to God his precious life he gave.
This poem is to the boys and the coach of a football team trapped in a cave in Thailand. But thanks to the rescuers' most had been rescued and one of the rescuers died in this attempts to save the boys. Except a few left behind. Our hope they would be saved and hope all will go well.
A dusty road and tall pine trees on a cloudless day filters light through the trees in such a way reminding me that even dirt can be beautiful with light present.
“You make beautiful things out of the dust”
-Gungor-
Upon warm weather instinctively through metamorphosis
it's time to start flutter testing newly minted wings
then the orange covered trees coming alive
waiting to leave their transient homes
billions of orange wings drumming
they decend in sheer abundance
rocky mountains are aflame
orange on streams forest
over desolate houses
man-made dams
rivers and lakes
and swamped
to feast before
to onward journey
a valley of milkweeds
the horde of marauders
entwined confusion
reign on blurry
battle rages
each frenzier
than the other
trying to satisfy
to each a flower
then each a leaf
find to lay eggs
to being them
again be able
to rampage
again leave behind continue
no need to stare looking back nothing last in motion of unison
wings may drop to dust a new generation emerges to carry on.
This is a tiny weeny portion of the migration of the monarch butterflies. Over four thousands miles of epic journey from Canada only to lay their wings to die in the mountain of Mexico. There they began again flying up North. And it would take another two to three generations to succeed in reaching their intended destination.
 Jun 2018 Hussein Dekmak
eileen
the moon is hidden behind the trees

I had forgotten the sun is moving
the moon following behind
I see it's new place in the sky

I miss you Orion
where are you now

I hope on the other side
when the night falls
someone appreciates Orion's belt
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