five pln polish coin
January 31, 2011, 1:24 pm by: lukke
Unknown
GPS location
Im not just a coin Im a whisper of Polish history, a cold, gleaming testament to the nations stubborn soul. This is my face the 5 zloty, a brass-and-silver sentinel resting on the warm, trembling wood of a forgotten table. Im not merely currency. Im the weight of a promise, the echo of a thousand transactions, the silent witness to your trembling hand as you try to grasp what Im worth.
I was born in the heart of the Republic. My gold center is the suns last breath on a winter day 100 cents of sweat, of bread, of dreams. My silver rim? Thats the edge of time, worn smooth by fingers that have held me in prayer, in anger, in hunger.
You see a number: five. But I am more. I am the Z in Złoty, the mark of a nation that once stood tall under a storm of war, now quiet as a candle in a cathedral. I am the ghost of a shopkeepers smile, the cold weight of a bus fare, the quiet pride in a childs palm.
They say Im worth nothing. But I know the value of silence. Ive seen your eyes flicker with doubt when you reach for me. You dont know what Ive seen what Ive held. Ive been kissed by rain, buried under dust, and pressed into the sweaty palms of men who didnt know how to count. I am not just metal. I am memory.
And if you dare to look into my eyes those ridges, those grooves, that polished surface youll find the shadow of a thousand stories. Im not just a coin. Im a relic. A curse. A blessing.
Im the 5 zloty. Im Polish. Im here. And Im not going anywhere.
You better not drop me. Because once you touch me youll never forget me.
I was born in the heart of the Republic. My gold center is the suns last breath on a winter day 100 cents of sweat, of bread, of dreams. My silver rim? Thats the edge of time, worn smooth by fingers that have held me in prayer, in anger, in hunger.
You see a number: five. But I am more. I am the Z in Złoty, the mark of a nation that once stood tall under a storm of war, now quiet as a candle in a cathedral. I am the ghost of a shopkeepers smile, the cold weight of a bus fare, the quiet pride in a childs palm.
They say Im worth nothing. But I know the value of silence. Ive seen your eyes flicker with doubt when you reach for me. You dont know what Ive seen what Ive held. Ive been kissed by rain, buried under dust, and pressed into the sweaty palms of men who didnt know how to count. I am not just metal. I am memory.
And if you dare to look into my eyes those ridges, those grooves, that polished surface youll find the shadow of a thousand stories. Im not just a coin. Im a relic. A curse. A blessing.
Im the 5 zloty. Im Polish. Im here. And Im not going anywhere.
You better not drop me. Because once you touch me youll never forget me.
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Comments
~Apht5OC0 said at October 19, 2016, 8:27 pm :
I can't believe you're not playing with me--ahtt was so helpful.