The Jeweler

The jeweler has a shop on the corner of the boulevard

In the night, in small spectacles, he polishes old coins

He uses spit and cloth and ashes

He makes them shine with ashes

He knows the use of ashes

He worships God with ashes

The coins are often very old by the time they reach the jeweler

With his hands and ashes he will try the best he can

He knows that he can only shine them

Cannot repair the scratches

He knows that even new coins have scars so he just smiles

He knows the use of ashes

He worships God with ashes

In the darkest of the night both his hands will blister badly

They will often open painfully and the blood flows from his hands

He works to take from black coin faces the thumbprints from so many ages

He wishes he could cure the scars

When he forgets he sometimes cries

He knows the use of ashes

He worships God with ashes