E'er upon the peaks of Atlas, calamity did descend,
Morocco's heart in rubble, Marrakesh doth attend,
Earth did quake with Odin's fury, its power to offend,
Six hundred souls to Valhalla, and hundreds more to mend.

Of the New World a vision, a wanderer's path in sight,
To weave the threads of East and West, neath the falcon's flight,
Thor's hammer pounds the iron lines, to Saudi sands and Israel's light,
Tying knots with sea and rail, Europe beckons bright.

In the kingdom of the dragon, shadows on the throne,
Midst the stagnant waters, seeds of growth are sown.
Inflation's breath, a fleeting ghost, in the market's monotone,
Drakkar sails amidst the storm, its course yet unknown.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur