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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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Mr. Sum

Old Sum, a cynic with a weathered face,
Would shake his head at wedding bells' embrace.
"Those grand displays," he'd grumble, beard a-twitch,
"Are hollow shells, a love about to itch."

"The biggest bash, the most elaborate gown,
Just masks a crack, a love that can't stay down.
Too much attention, drowns the quiet spark,
Leaving them strangers, lost within the dark."

He'd point to couples, young and hand in hand,
Vowing forever in a glittered land.
"Remember them," he'd say with knowing eyes,
"When lavish vows turn into bitter cries."

The younger folks would scoff and roll their eyes,
"Love's grand, old Sum," they'd tease with playful sighs.
But as the years spun by, and weddings grand
Unraveled fast, they'd see his point at hand.

For love, they learned, thrived best in gentle light,
Not blinded by a staged and showy night.
Perhaps old Sum, with words both gruff and stark,
Held wisdom in his cynical remark.

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