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
 He knows the use of ashes
 He worships God with ashes
 He knows the use of ashes