In Ecuador's heart, a serpent's strike doth ring,
The mead of violence from coca trade doth spring.
Lament the leader felled, sing of his silent voice,
Such brutality reigns where greed makes its choice.

In Iran's vast forges, now cooled and restrained,
Their stormy ambition of power is detained.
The terror's tide recedes, less fierce the flames they stock,
Yet remains the watchers' vigil 'round the doomsday clock.

See the sagas unfold in the New World's throne,
Where power's hunger battles truth hard-grown.
A judge raises his gavel, his order like thunder's peal,
Reminding the Wolf that even he must to justice kneel.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur