No coin shall pass from hand to hand, No deal struck upon demand. The weight of wealth, the price of gain, Are whispers lost in winds of rain. No barter here, no bidding voice, No tally kept of greed or choice. No silver tongues, no market calls, Just quiet halls and empty stalls. For value lies in things unseen— The hush of dawn, the space between, The kindness freely given forth, Not measured by its stated worth. So let the world spin as it may, With ledgers full and debts to pay. But I will walk where nothing’s sold, And find my heart untouched by gold.