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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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Wambui

Wambui speaks with a knowing sigh,
Of a world where standards seem to die.
"To rise above the average throng," she says,
"Just push on past the first hurdle, no more delays."

No triumph in such a simple feat,
It paints a picture bittersweet.
The competition, a sorry sight,
Where giving up is common plight.

Those who surrender before they start,
Leave victory open, a gaping heart.
Wambui's words, a challenge clear,
To rise above, conquer every fear.
For in this world where resolve is rare,
Persistence itself becomes a prayer.

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