A heart so broken, modern healers say,
In more than jest, such pain does truly lay.
From times long past, a truth we now convey,
Pain of heart is more than mere word's play.

Inverter'd oceans, warmth increasing fast,
As Earth's roaring heart breaks free at last.
In life's liquid engine, stories vast,
Disrupted flow recalls a fading past.

A capital in slumber, division's mirth,
Rebels clad in elephantine girth.
Fueled by words, their power they birth,
Blocking deals, they render joy to dearth.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur