The Weight of Gold

Oh, gleaming coins and crisp green notes,
The lifeblood of dreams, the anchor of boats.
A symbol of power, ambition's sweet call,
Yet a shackle unseen, that binds us all.

In the hands of some, you bring delight,
A banquet's spread, a home’s warm light.
But in the grasp of others, cold as stone,
A source of greed, a heart overthrown.

You whisper promises of grander days,
Of wealth and splendor in countless ways.
Yet oft you lead where shadows loom,
A gilded path to silent gloom.

For what are you but a fleeting claim,
A tool of trade, a fleeting name?
The joy you buy is brittle, thin,
The true riches lie deep within.

You build the cities, fuel the wars,
Open gates, and close tight doors.
A friend to charity, a foe to peace,
Your dance of influence will never cease.

Some spend their lives in your pursuit,
Their roots of joy cut at the root.
While others give you freely, whole,
Finding wealth within the soul.

Oh money, master of our fates,
We mold your power, yet call you great.
For good or ill, you hold the reign,
A paradox that fuels our gain.

And when the final toll does chime,
Your worth dissolves with fleeting time.
What matters most is not your gleam,
But the love and legacy we weave in dreams.