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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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Mbala

In a shop of drums, Mbala stands,
Amidst the rhythms and the bands.
Her eyes alight with curiosity,
In a world of beats, a vibrant sea.

But a sign catches her gaze,
Bold and clear in its phrase:
"You bang it, you buy it," it reads,
A warning echoing through the reeds.

With gentle touch, she explores,
Each drum, each beat, each encore.
Careful not to disturb the air,
Yet longing to feel the music's flare.

Mbala dances on the edge,
Between temptation and the pledge.
To unleash the thunder within her soul,
Yet wary of the price, the toll.

For in this shop of drums so grand,
Each beat carries a demand.
To own the rhythm, to make it sing,
But at what cost, what offering?

So Mbala stands, in quiet awe,
Respecting the rule, the law.
For though the drums may call her name,
She leaves them be, untamed.

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