From the southern sun to northern star's embrace,
With cunning and will, they've curbed the human chase.
Once bursting at brim, now since twenty-twenty's race,
The roaming souls in check, yet such calm may not hold trace.

A brewing tempest doth the world's market face,
With futures plunged deep, in tumult's unforgiving space.
Nasdaq, S&P, even bitcoin lose their grace,
Among the sell-offs wild, there's a profound unease.

Now doth the trades popular begin to unwind,
Wall Street's fretful whisperings echo in my mind.
Sits the Fed too long on rates, to cuts unkind?
Oh see, how forthcoming years wisdom we may find.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur