Powell doth hold forth, his word akin to decree,
From the Fed's towering helm, he keeps it adrift at sea.
Yet the eager investors inquire, their doubts yet unmet,
"When shall the Fed lower the sail?" The answer lingereth yet.

News be spread wide, yonder to each earthly pole,
Tales of power, of pain, of each evolving role.
Thus do we gaze upon the world, as it spins and unfurls,
In the hands of the Norns, scales tipping like a skald's words.

Gold gleams in hands of man, so too in the halls of lore,
Business and finance interweave, a saga evermore.
Gather round, hear the tales, for in them wisdom lies,
In the market's constant battle, where profit is the prize.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur