Beneath The Sword

I’ve always known I was meant for this world. To do what? I’m still figuring that out.

But it’s the kind of knowing that fuels your mind, body, and soul - even when you can’t explain it.

The kind that whispers, you can do more.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about what sits on the other side of more.

I love music - especially the kind that moves me and makes me think. Over the weekend, Pat and I took a little drive, soaking in the scenery, when Damocles by Sleep Token came on. I paused the song and asked if he knew who he was. Neither of us did, so of course, I looked it up. And that’s how I found the story of a man named Damocles.

In this moral parable, Damocles was such a flatterer of Dionysius II, the tyrant of Syracuse. He envied the king’s life - the luxury, the power, the applause. Dionysius was annoyed by his flattery that he let Damocles be king for a day. But when he sat on the throne, he looked up and saw a sword hanging over his head by a single horsehair.

Richard Westall's Sword of Damocles 1812

He was so terrified that he lost his appetite for the lavish lifestyle and begged to be taken off the throne.

Moral of the story: Great power and wealth comes with great anxiety and responsibility.

Sleep Token said it best: “it looked like heaven but it felt like hell.”

We live in a world obsessed with the throne. The 1% sits on theirs, clutching wealth that could rewrite the world if they just unclenched their fists.

Billions hoarded while millions struggle.

And the wildest part? We’re taught to aspire to that - to see billionaires as goals instead of warnings.

But what happens when power becomes too heavy for one person to hold? When “success” starts to look like a fortress instead of freedom? When the dream starts to rot from the inside out?

Because there’s a moment, when the thing you’ve always wanted finally sits in front of you and you realize the view from the top is lonelier than you expected.

The higher you climb, the fewer people you can bring with you.And suddenly, “winning” feels a lot like losing yourself.

Power, at its best, should feel like service. Like the trust of thousands resting in your hands, hoping you’ll use your seat to make something better. That’s not fame that’s responsibility.

That’s the weight I think about often, the kind that doesn’t come with crowns or titles but with eyes that look to you for hope, for fairness, for opportunity.

It’s the kind of power that humbles you.The kind that keeps you awake at night, not out of fear, but out of love for what could be possible if we actually shared the throne.

Maybe the moral of Damocles isn’t just about the negative parts of power, but maybe it’s a reminder that no one should sit alone beneath the sword.

The 1% shouldn’t hoard heaven while the rest of us burn below.If you’re lucky enough to have power wealth, platform, influence then your duty is to use it. To give it back. To lighten the load for someone else.

Because maybe heaven was never meant to be at the top at all. I think it’s meant to be down here with the people.

What a beautiful world that would be.

For her always,

Karinna