In the shadows of the city, where dreams lie cold,
Lived a man named Elijah, aged but never old.
With a beard like silver threads, tangled and wild,
He wandered through alleys, a forsaken child.
His pockets echoed empty, a symphony of despair,
Yet hope flickered in his heart, like the softest prayer.

Elijah found solace in the whispers of the night,
Listening to the stories of the stars burning bright.
He had a friend named Nora, a woman with grace,
Who spoke of the world through the lens of her face.
"Elijah," she would say, with wisdom in her tone,
"Life’s a flip of a coin; we’re never truly alone."

They shared tales of their youth, of laughter and light,
How fortune had danced just out of their sight.
But in each tale spun, there lay a bitter twist,
A reminder of the dreams that time could not resist.
“Remember,” Nora said, as she fixed her worn shoes,
“The value of wealth is not in what you choose.”

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky,
Elijah tossed a coin, watching it spin high.
“Let it land where it may, I have nothing to lose,
On this street of dreams, which path shall I choose?”
The coin danced in the air, reflecting the light,
A promise of change, a chance for new sight.

As it fell, the world shimmered, colors blurred and swirled,
And in that fleeting moment, a new story unfurled.
Elijah awoke, not on the pavement’s embrace,
But in a mansion of marble, a lavish space.
Gold chandeliers hung, diamonds sprinkled the floor,
He was wrapped in fine linens, but his heart felt sore.

“Welcome, Mr. Elijah,” a butler spoke clear,
“Your fortune awaits; there’s nothing to fear.”
He glanced in the mirror, a stranger he saw,
Dressed in silks and jewels, but felt a deep flaw.
“Is this truly wealth?” he pondered with dread,
As voices of...