In hearts of men, both strong and frail,
We walk the line where dreams prevail.
With courage bold, we reach for stars,
Yet stumble, bruised, from unseen scars.

A flame within, it drives us on,
Through trials faced, through battles won.
But shadows linger, doubts arise,
A fragile soul beneath the skies.

We stand as pillars in the storm,
With love and hope to keep us warm.
But pride can blind, and fear can bind,
The brightest light, the darkest mind.

In kindness, we are giants tall,
Yet selfishness can make us fall.
We seek the good, but falter still—
An endless dance of strength and will.

For human hearts are made of clay,
Molded by both night and day.
A paradox of fierce and meek,
So strong, yet so uniquely weak.