golden

now the trees were gold, too: he'd accidentally leaned against one of them earlier, when he'd tried to reach the old man, the old man that did this to him; all he wanted was some money— enough to keep him out of debt, so he could go back to painting; now he was stuck in this beautiful monochrome land, and the gold was still spreading through the air, the wind, already reaching devious tendrils through the core of the land— but as he got to the hovel, he saw that it was gold too, and as he cried, his tears all turned into gold, and this was the same time as the ocean crept into metallic splendour, and as his feet froze into wondrous alchemy, the last of the birds across the globe landed, and was consumed, and the sun dimmed with his vision— dimmed over the golden land as it was made gold, and no more through pale glass windows was illuminated the book in the old man's cottage, and the stars faded as God looked in surprise at the tinge in His fingernails