Born From The Heart Of Gold

In our heart of gold what does it hold ? The praise or beauty of none that remembers us ? Or the nights that surfed into oblivion ? For, it harbours what you cannot tell as it wont be sold, It's soul is neither made from coins, Nor it's clay is made from envy, For its blood is made when heaven answers, And it pumps a paradise that never dares to scatter foils, What is this thing that looks like a priceless heart ? But, does it know that it sees you in it's reflection, For it's heartbeat is your smile, As we remember it in the name of empathy.