Upon Maduro's claim, a prince proclaims his reign,
Touts victory, the bitter fruits of contested campaign,
Yet, voices rise in strife, foul play they suggest,
Election's truth lost, in muddy contest.

Pearson, steady steed, trots on a straight way,
Says "fears thee not", come what befalls the day.
No wealth gained or lost, in semester past,
Framing future fortunes, in the cast of forecasts.

In the realm of lore, stern Cardona thrives,
An emissary's parchment, where battle jives.
No friend to the goats of dominant right,
In the mazes of rules, he lights a fight.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur