My utmost gratitude and respect goes to the Order of Wealth and Trade, to Elaniara and Drefan, and to Lord Prospero. All things golden are not all golden things.
- - -

I believe that wealth cannot prevail
when dreamt as naught but sovereigns one may ply.
The worth of money's told in every tale
but rarely paints the scenes that I can spy.
I have known the flavour and the taste;
I have felt the fabrics wove and laced.
You ask where lies the wealth beyond the reign?
In sky; in spring; in song; in love and shame -
in every place you've seen, and unseen yet.
Where dreams and hurt and hope are one and same,
that is where the golden things are met.

I have seen a world beset by hail,
by snow and storm beneath a shaded sky.
I beheld a heaven 'neath its veil
who mourned what twinkled once in every eye.
Then with our gaze the vault of stars we traced,
and by the stars the world again was graced.
Have you seen that sable shroud yet wane
by the stellar light and lunar twain?
In the rise and fall, the dawn and set -
when silver night warms up to morning's stain -
that is where the golden things are met.

I've heard many songs and many tales,
and graced as many wand'ring ears have I.
My music has been met with jeers and wails -
but so, too, have the taverns heard my cry
and echoed back with laughter warm and chaste,
or weeping when with truths they have been faced.
When ears pick up the lilt within my strains,
resistance to the dance is done in vain.
The taste of joy and amber ale and sweat -
in the springing step and revels fain,
that is where the golden things are met.

Alas, to romance I've not been avail'd;
yet art at large is by love's colours dyed.
I've heard the heart Lucaine one time unveiled.
I adored the scenes Selene sighed.
To live in dearth of love can be a waste,
for hearts sing loud when love in them is placed.
But romance is not all the lovers' lane;
for some, a kiss is met with harsh disdain.
Love is painted in a vast palette.
In marriage, friendship, fam'ly made or vein,
that is where the golden things are met.

Wealth should know no dais, case, or jail,
though I admit the hoard's allure is sly.
The beauty of a jewel-encrusted grail
filled with wine is far too hard to fie.
The weight of ruby belts around my waist
is a heft that I have often chased.
What music to the avaricious brain -
what sweet surrender to the coffers' bane -
is clacking gems in jewellery inset!
Is this the gilded worth of welcome shame?
Is this where golden things are really met?

My greed, at times, has much myself abased -
so I decry the worth of gold debased.
Sovereigns' worth is for the coronet;
in all the world's beauty, I maintain,
is where the truly golden things are met.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Valnuary, in the year 1013 AF.