From the East where dawn’s kiss paints the sky,
Afloat the Sensex, as eagles fly,
In towers of tech and forge's fire,
Beds the hopes that earnings inspire.
Quiv'ring is the heart and wagon yoke,
Midst Yellow's tale of humble folk,
Under debt's oppressive yoke they sway,
In shadows cast by pandemic's grey.
A prologue penned on Cyberspace's tome,
Sees Musk prelude a familiar home,
To constellation X he trails his quill,
On undulant tides of the future, still.
