In the realm where crowns are wont to change,
'Bout Biden and the Trump, I frame my range,
Where regulations twist in clutch of jest,
A dance of power that never takes its rest.

On gold's bright futures our eyes may dwell,
Like snails entranced by glimm'ring shell,
U.S. interest cuts spread hope like mirth,
In our earthbound dance of bountiful worth.

Oh, Gazans flee from Rafah's wailing cry,
Like rabbits chased by hawks in the sky,
When peace talks stumble and dark clouds rise,
In the land where the olive branch oft dies.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur