In the realm where bulls and bears collide,
A tale unfolds, where fortunes bide.
Upon the stage, a market's dance,
A waltz of chance, of circumstance.
Whispers murmur, rumors fly,
The market's heartbeat, a speculative sigh.
In shadows cast by candle's gleam,
The wisest ponder, the hopeful dream.
"The top is in," they softly say,
As numbers climb, then slip away.
A symphony of tickers, a financial art,
A tapestry woven, a delicate chart.
In the cathedral of finance, where echoes ring,
Traders' fingers dance on every string.
Green and red, the flags of fate,
As markets rise and contemplate.
High above, the summit gleams,
A peak so lofty, a realm of dreams.
Yet whispers grow, a cautionary call,
"The top is in," a warning sprawl.
Speculation's tide, a restless sea,
Where fortunes ebb and flow in glee.
The siren song of wealth's allure,
Yet danger lurks, obscured, unsure.
The bulls may charge, the bears may growl,
Yet time unveils the market's scowl.
In cycles spun, a wheel that turns,
A lesson learned as fortune burns.
So heed the echoes, the caution's chime,
In the rhythm of the market's prime.
For on the summit, where eagles soar,
The top is in, forevermore.