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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.

Kemunto

In the heart of Makadara, where the sun meets the sky,
There lived a lady named Kemunto, noble and spry.
With grace in her step and kindness in her gaze,
She walked among the people, brightening their days.

With gentle hands, she tended to the sick and the weak,
Whispering words of comfort, soothing those who couldn't speak.
In her eyes, there sparkled a fervent belief,
That hands are for helping, a creed beyond relief.

Through fields of hardship and valleys of despair,
Kemunto stood tall, spreading hope everywhere.
She lent her hands to the weary and lost,
Turning pain into strength, no matter the cost.

In her humble abode, where love dwelled supreme,
She taught her children the essence of a dream.
That hands, though small, possess a mighty power,
To uplift humanity in its darkest hour.

So let us heed the wisdom of Kemunto's decree,
That hands are for helping, for setting spirits free.
And may her legacy forever endure,
As a beacon of compassion, steadfast and pure.

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