Aureate Silence Poem by Mohit Saini

Not all that glisters bends to human hands,
Nor yields its weight to scales of trade and toll.
Some gold is spun in light no coin demands—
A wealth unminted, gleaming past control.
The hush between the thunder and the rain,
The pause before the lark forsakes the dew,
The way late sun will gild a windowpane
Yet ask no witness—this is gold made new.
No vault may hold it, nor assay define,
No miser's grip can clutch its fleeting flame.
It flows where beggars and where saints dine,
And stains the air with grace no king may claim.
Oh, strike no medal for such light unpriced—
The finest gold is neither mined nor kissed.