I float to faraway lands carrying people and freight. I am filled with gas but don't deflate.

Red tape Procedures. Rules. Kafka-esque, cannot escape Even Orwell thought them fools.

First is passed from a good meal, or bad, but hopefully it passes in peace, without a smell. Second is a place for turning, sometimes for grinding, often for more. Put together, I am a foe to an imaginative knight, whose dreams led to battles falsely fought.

I am Feared I am respected I am both anticipated And unexpected Often silent Often stealthy Touching the poor Touching the wealthy You cannot hide You cannot run Been on my way Since you begun

From times past, a treasure held dear, a whisper of tales, oh so clear. Crafted by hands now long gone, it's the key to stories overdrawn. Indiana Jones wants to find them all.