Lady fortune

In Manhattan's heart, where steel meets sky,
A million dreams on restless winds do fly.
There Fortune sits, a queen of wealth untold,
Her form a canvas, rich with stories bold.

Caravaggio's brushstrokes brought her to life,
A symphony of shadows, light, and strife.
Her ample arms embrace a gilded lute,
From which dreams' golden threads are spun astute.

Each note a tale, a whispered hope's refrain,
Each chord a promise whispered through the rain.
With eyes alight, wide with a yearning deep,
The city's dreamers gather 'round to reap

The magic woven in her voice's thread,
Of empires built, victories to be led.
Through concrete canyons, tales of fortunes rise,
Reflecting moonlight in ambitious eyes.

But Fortune's song, a double edge it wields,
For not all glitters here in gilded fields.
A warning whispers 'midst the hopeful call,
That dreams can fade, and empires rise and fall.

Yet tonight, beneath the moon's ethereal grace,
Hope reigns supreme, etched on each hopeful face.
For in this city where dreams take flight,
Fortune's melody ignites the night.