A New Polycrates Of Samos? Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Upon the cliffs of Samos town,
A tyrant wore a golden crown.
With luck that broke the laws of fate,
Polycrates grew rich and great.

He walked as if by gods held high,
No cloud of doom within his sky.
His friend, the Pharaoh, felt the dread,
'Give up your treasure, ' Egypt said.

The ring was cast into the deep,
A sacrifice for gods to keep.
But soon it rose within a fish,
Granting the tyrant every wish.

The Pharaoh paled, he saw the sign:
'No mortal man has grace divine.'
For luck that tastes like honeyed wine,
Will turn to salt and bitter brine.

The Persian trap was neatly laid,
The price of gold was final paid.
The cross stood tall in desert sand,
The luck was gone from out his hand.

Two thousand years have turned the page,
Across the sands of history's stage.
New names emerge in states of power,
Who seems to cheat in the final hour.

From Butler's ring to ballots cast,
Against the odds they hold quite fast.
But empires bloom and empires break,
And every gambler makes
a stake.

The map shifts back to ancient ground,
Where Persian echoes still resound.
For history writes in iron pen:
The luck will leave the reach of men.