Million coins of lustre break through the mask of the hills,
Floating above rivers of mud, oil, and metal,
It blinds the child lost in his way, with nothing
But smoke in his stomach and soul.
Only the coins can fill it with the warmth
That taunts him before the glass where a family
Munch down their dreams–
The cokes and spaghettis of bliss,
Which he no longer knew of taste.
A black hole he was in this universe,
But that which the bodies of space
Knew how to avoid.
Traces of his raspy voice break through
The static of chatter and laughter
Begging for coins to fill the eternity that
Eats him through.
Only three land in his palm: One, Five, Ten.
He holds their cold bodies in his two bony palms
Hoping for the same warmth as the
Coins that blind him
But eternity rips out of his soul
And runs amok across the hills.
It feeds through the universe,
It pulls upon its galaxies,
It drags them to shelters,
That the child will never see.
But don’t worry, he is never lost,
For he shall be forever be fed
By the billion gold coins
Scattered in places
We forgot to see.
Written in advance for this prompt.