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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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Hole-in-one

The amateur dreams of a single shot,
A fleeting glory, a moment caught.
A hole-in-one, their heart’s delight,
A fleeting spark in the endless night.

But the pro walks steady, the game in stride,
No fleeting moment their source of pride.
For in each swing, in every round,
Mastery’s echoes are quietly found.

To play the course, to know its soul,
To conquer each challenge, to claim control.
Prestige is not in a shot that’s rare,
But in the club where their name holds care.

The pro’s heart beats with a steady hum,
Not for a moment, but for what’s to come.
For skill and honor will always last,
More than a fleeting, glorious past.

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