In realms of gold and fields of azure clear,
Where wings of steel doth fall in tumult vast,
The seafarer's hark brings investor's fear,
A summer storm, on fortunes overcast.
Gold's wise hoarders dine on caution's meal,
As throne stands empty of Biden's might,
Their hunger cause the golden wheel to wheel,
To still the tempest of the coming night.
And now, black liquid gold doth rise in worth,
On wind of change its value gently sway,
Peace falls as Odin's carriage leave the earth,
In restless hearts, the folk of Midgard pray.
