Pray, ponder on thy golden age, of Roth and 401K,
Save but for the morrow's stage, in schemes that promise pay,
For many a firm hath added these, retirement's solid pillars,
Yet tricky seems the number's ease, that fills the trader's tillers.

Lo, a wildcard makes them tremble, Wall Street to White House,
His actions they can but assemble, in nervous thought they douse,
Though unpredictable his current, danger seems apparent,
In stocks and shares with one errant, the consequence is rampant.

To the moon and back we've heard, a moonshot without peer,
Around the world, each whispered word, a feat that caused great cheer,
Yet in bracing for the familiar, the known path tread before,
It seems that nothing is similar, to the unpredictable lore.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur