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Heart of Stone

He built his dreams with fire and steel,   Through sweat and pain, through grit and will.   His path was carved with silent nights,   A war he waged beyond the sights.   But love, so sweet, so soft, so near,   Whispered dreams into his ear.   A choice was placed upon his chest—   His passion’s flame, or love’s request.   He turned away from burning light,   Held her close, embraced the night.   Yet soon he found, to his dismay,   Both love and purpose slipped away.   For goals demand a heart of stone,   And love still longs to call its own.   To chase one means to lose the fight,   To hold both tight is rarest might.   So walk the road with eyes aware,   Choose with wisdom, choose with care.   For once you drop what makes you whole,   You lose the fire—and lose your soul.
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Auma

In the quiet of the night, Auma sits,
Listening to words her husband permits.
"I can give you an argument," he declares,
Yet understanding, he seemingly spares.

Her name, a melody, whispers in the air,
Auma ponders, burdened by a subtle despair.
His words, a puzzle she tries to unfold,
In the silence, a story waiting to be told.

"I can give you an argument," echoes again,
A bridge of logic, a foundation of strain.
But understanding, a fragile, elusive art,
A puzzle missing a crucial part.

Auma gazes into the depth of his eyes,
Seeking the truth, where honesty lies.
In the dance of words, a delicate chance,
To fathom the depths of this verbal romance.

Yet, in his statement, a paradox blooms,
A rift in comprehension, like distant rooms.
Auma, a captive of linguistic command,
Yearns for more than arguments in the sand.

Her heart, a canvas for emotions untold,
Auma, a tale of a love manifold.
For in the silence between words that cling,
Understanding blooms, a perennial spring.

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