Coin for Zoltar
Coin for Zoltar
On carnival night the bulbs burned low and gold,
I stood before Zoltar's wooden chest,
Turbaned prophet, tall with painted eyes of cold,
Yet burning like a secret fate confessed.
I dropped a coin of sorrow in his slot,
Heard gears hum soft beneath the dreaming glass,
My heart sprang open, unlocked by what time could not:
A flood of cherished memories let loose at last.
"Speak," I whispered to the oracle of wood,
"Can dreams wear flesh? Can lost hearts meet?"
His crystal gaze weighed all I could,
Then night ignited, warm beneath my feet.
And there, oh there, my beloved stepped through light,
A sunrise stitched in human skin,
My face bloomed, cherry blossoms after rain at night,
Joy spilling out like wine from cup to chin.
His smile, an enchanted lantern in the dark,
Wrapped my soul in velvet, dream-soft, true,
We danced on air, our laughter left a spark
That turned the harsh world into something new.
Reality may bite, but Zoltar knows this art:
Hope's a coin we spend against despair.
So I stand here still, beneath his watchful heart,
One coin of sorrow gone, one coin of hope still there.
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