Amidst the clatter of restless hearts,
Coins whisper tales of endless schemes.
In gilded dreams where silence starts,
They weave their golden threads in streams.
In shadows deep, they softly gleam,
Guiding paths with unseen light.
A gentle dance, a fleeting dream,
They vanish in the silent night.
Yet in their wake, desires grow,
A hunger fed by phantom gold.
The world spins on, a steady flow,
As stories of their worth unfold.
But when the dawn dispels the mist,
And truth unveils the fleeting gleam,
The coins lie still, their whispers missed,
In the quiet world of broken dreams.