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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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Pure Intentions

We speak of kindness, preach of grace,
Yet cut with words we fail to trace.
A glance too sharp, a sigh too loud,
A silent judgment wrapped in shroud.

We carve with whispers, frowns, and doubt,
Not knowing what our lips let out.
Intentions pure, or so we claim,
Yet fault and flaw we quick to name.

The mind moves fast, the heart stands still,
A critic’s voice bends to its will.
And when reflection casts its light,
We see the wounds we thought were slight.

So pause a breath, reshape the tone,
For what we give may be our own.
A world less harsh, a kinder view—
It starts with me. It starts with you.

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