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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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It Is OK To Hate The Struggle

Why must the path to coins feel steep,  
A climb through shadows, a lack of sleep?  
Why does each note demand my pain,  
Like life’s a storm, and I the rain?  

The world spins on a wheel of trade,  
Where effort's weight and dreams are weighed.  
Yet oft it feels, to earn our keep,  
We give too much, the toll cuts deep.  

But pause—does struggle shape the soul,  
Carve out the diamond, make it whole?  
Or does the world, in its design,  
Blind us to joy while chasing time?  

Perhaps the answer’s not to flee,  
But shift the lens through which we see.  
For coins, though cold, can’t cage the light,  
That fuels the heart and grants us flight.  

So suffer, yes, but not in vain,  
Each step builds bridges, softens chains.  
And when you pause to count your share,  
You’ll find your worth was always there.

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