In the kingdom fair of commerce, the dollar holds its sway,
Unmoved by the silence of markets on this festive day.
Yet secrets hidden in the morrows transcripts may convey,
Of future lifts of interest, deciding its ascend or lay.

Upon the ocean's bosom, the oil in dances light doth play,
Diverged from supply and demand, to macro's tune they sway.
In the realm of numbers grand, their course does find its way,
Guided by the unseen hand, whispered by the sprites of ING.

Alas, the metals fair in consternation lie arrayed,
From iron stern to golden gleam, their worth in wait is stayed.
A shroud of doubt, upon the globe in dire form is laid,
Dousing their desire's fire, in gloom their shine's betrayed.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur