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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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A Futile Climb

Beneath the sky’s vast, endless dome,  
Lie whispers of what we can call home.  
The winds may howl, the rivers may roar,  
Yet our hands can't halt what nature’s for.  

To speak of storms or fleeting time,  
Is to chase a phantom, a futile climb.  
For what we can't hold, what slips through the grasp,  
Belongs to the world, too wild to clasp.  

Why burden the heart with what it can’t steer?  
Why fill the air with unwelcome fear?  
Let silence cradle what storms demand,  
And keep our words for what’s in our hand.  

For power resides where choice begins,  
Not in the sky, nor the tempest’s whims.  
So speak of the seeds that you can sow,  
And leave the untamed to simply flow.

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