The Heart

A forge within the ribcage tight, The heart, a furnace, burning bright. It fans the flames of fierce desire, A flicker's spark, a soul on fire. Love's embers glow, a gentle heat, That warms the core, a solace sweet. But passion's blaze, a searing pyre, Can consume reason, set the soul afire. Ambition's torch, a steady flame, Pushes us onward, and fuels our name. But envy's green, a twisted spark, Can twist the spirit, and leave its mark. Grief's heavy ash, a smoldering grey, Hangs in the air, where joy once lay. Yet hope's frail tendrils, reaching high, Fan-hidden embers to the sky. The heart's a kiln where emotions blend, A crucible where lives transcend. Forged in its fire, we take our stand, Shaped by the flames, both fierce and grand. So guard the fire, let reason hold, Lest passion's heat leaves us out in the cold. With steady breath, the bellows tend, And let the heart's true fire ascend.