Boustead's plot lay bare to the winds of trade,
To conquer fertile fields where green gold is made.
Yet a bold holder dared step in, a savior true,
As dark clouds retreated, the sun light anew.

Hong Kong's markets, once a tempest fierce,
Now lay stagnant, their mighty roars cease.
Foreign wolves retreat to their distant den,
In the silent halls, we ask, where go the men?

To the Ozempic era turn America's eyes,
As the food giants tremble 'fore the shifting tides.
Seven in a hundred shall seek the elixir,
On this mighty journey, we face a new fixture.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur