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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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Orwa

In the realm of strategy, Orwa stood,
A man of wisdom, in a pondering mood.
He grasped the first rule, clear as day,
Tactics unveiled, in life's intricate play.

"Never rely on luck," a truth he embraced,
For chance is fickle, a fleeting trace.
In battles of wits, where plans unfold,
Orwa learned, luck's story often untold.

With a heart of strategy, he took his stand,
Crafting his moves, with a deliberate hand.
Luck may dance, a tempting partner near,
Yet Orwa knew, foresight conquers fear.

Through the tapestry of time, he'd weave,
A master tactician, never to deceive.
For in the first rule, wisdom found,
Orwa's path, on solid ground.

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