In realms of wealth, where value thrives,
Money stands, where purity survives.
Unfettered by time's relentless march,
It holds its essence, a shining arch.

Gold and silver, paper or coin,
Through ages past, their worth has shone.
Neither rust nor moth can taint its grace,
In the world's vast and varied race.

Yet in the hands of human will,
Money's purity can rise or spill.
For in its use, the heart's unveiled,
To cherish or corrupt, its path unveiled.
© Dheeraj Hemadri