Power calls to me, yet I approach it with caution.
It is the hand that unlocks gates, the key to rooms I’ve only dreamed of entering. But that same hand can also slam those gates shut, leaving others out in the cold.
Power is the breath that brings ideas and dreams to life – a beautiful, intoxicating thought – yet it can also breathe life into things best left hidden.
I’ve seen people speak with so much hope before they gain power, promising change and good things. And I’ve watched how, once power arrives, they sometimes become very different from what they once promised.
So I find myself asking: is power itself the problem, or is it what’s missing when power is in the wrong hands? Perhaps what I truly fear isn’t power, but the way it reveals what’s been beneath the surface all along.