The twenty-fourth year of thine millenium's second part,
Hearken to my tale of sorrow, twas on October's eve it did start.
In the lands fair of Israel, the outlook bleak and raw,
The wrathful attack by Hamas brought promise of endless war.
In distant Russian lands, a merchant of death awakes once more,
Viktor Bout, arms trader, reopens Pandora's dangerous door.
Exchanged in twenty-two for a star of the basketball court,
His sinister wares now the Houthis' bid for war's support.
Israel, like a thunderbird, launches assault anew,
In the grim north of Gaza, its fury doth accrue.
Militants rise like Midgard's serpents, vying for control,
Yet 'tis met with iron tempest, turning night as black as coal.
