Upon the banks of Eastern lands, a storm doth form and rise,
Shadow missiles cleave the sky, a force none can disguise.
Ukraine's heart beats bold and true, it sees the foe's demise,
Deep within enemy lines, their deliverance lies.

Markets turn a blinded eye, towards the debt's monstrous size,
Economic ship sails on, oblivious of ties.
Companies, like sagas old, on borrowed gold rely,
See not the icy waters, below the rosy skies.

Behold the quirk of man's design, a thing to humor and surprise,
A urinal of portable make, to the challenge, it complies.
Health's game has a novel player, in fashion's quaint disguise,
Earplugs or compression socks, strange trophies of the wise.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur