In the Land of the Rising Sun, the sea storm lifts,
SoftBank's coffers rich, as the foggy mindset shifts.
Their Arm of power ascends, 'gainst the sky it's etched,
In the thrilling game of commerce, a stronger hand they've fetched.
Oil, black as raven's mantle, on the market scale,
Against the eastern dragon's breath, bids the traders hail.
In waiting of the eagle's eye and the figures it will speak,
Quietly creeps the price per drum, what fortune will it seek?
Yet gold, the Midas' bounty, in futures does descend,
Before the eagle's gaze, to the dollar it shall bend.
In the waiting game of numbers, 'fore the commerce week has sprung,
Loses shine to its rival's might, in the market's fierce-fought thrung.
