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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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Iron Might

With a hammer firm in hand, I stand,  
Surveying all across the land.  
No matter what may come my way,  
I raise my tool without delay.  

A crooked beam, a fragile thread,  
A whispered doubt within my head—  
Each one, I strike, again, again,  
As if the force will make it mend.  

But not all things are meant to break,  
Not every wound a blow can take.  
Some call for care, a gentle bend,  
A steady hand, a thoughtful end.  

Yet here I am, my grip so tight,  
Each problem met with iron might.  
If only I could learn to see—  
That more than hammers, tools must be.

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