“What men crown in gold, time strips in silence.”

They tallied gold to prove their worth,
Bribed the scales of heaven and earth;
Each coin a prayer, each deed a price,
To purchase grace and varnish vice.

They built a wing for God to see,
A theater of philanthropy;
Yet gilded arches cannot shield the soul,
When roots reclaim what riches stole.

The laugh was sharp, the handshake cold,
A lesson bartered, bought, and sold;
For kindness was a cost too great,
Its mercy stricken from the ledger’s weight.

That hunger grew with every feast,
A gaunt, relentless, sleepless beast;
It fed on power, praise, and fear,
And whispered “More” each passing year.

And in the end, the vault was full,
The spirit hollowed, cold, and cruel;
They owned the world, a gilded tomb,
And starved within a golden room.

━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━

Ten pentacles were carved in stone,
A lineage raised, then overthrown;
Inheritance lost to turning years—
Gold glitters bright, then stains with tears.