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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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Dreams Turn To Stone

A man stands tall, the world expects,
Strength in his stride, no room for regrets.
Yet beneath the surface, a silent despair,
Empty pockets, a soul laid bare.

The whispers linger, sharp as the wind,
"Provide, protect," the creed of his kin.
But what of the nights when dreams turn to stone,
When he wrestles the dark, utterly alone?

He carries the burden, unseen, untold,
A heart that aches, a spirit bold.
Not for himself, but for those in his care,
He builds castles of hope from thin, fragile air.

Oh, cruel weight of what it means to be,
A provider bound by society’s decree.
Yet know this truth, though fortune may wane,
The worth of a man is not tied to his gain.

Rise, O soul, from the ashes of strife,
For value is more than a monetary life.
In kindness, in love, in dreams that persist,
The measure of worth will always exist.

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