1 min read
In the West,
even the sun can rise.
Direction is perspective.
Limits are assumptions.
I used to think
discipline was harsh sunlight.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.
But leadership
is not permanent summer.
There are seasons.
Heat of ambition.
Cold winds of doubt.
And between them —
A quiet transition
where growth smells like rain
touching dry soil.
Yesterday
my focus and my feelings
lived apart.
Lightning without sky.
Intensity without grounding.
Today
they braid together.
Fire with structure.
Passion with process.
When anger clouds the mind,
clarity disappears like a hidden moon.
When ego settles,
the same moon shines full.
Nothing changed in the sky.
Only the weather within me.
Leadership training
begins there.
Regulate first.
React later.
No root
hates the flower.
No river
fears the reed.
Strength
doesn’t destroy gentleness.
It channels it.
A small spark
can burn a forest.
Or light a path.
Choice
is discipline.
Affection
is not weakness.
It is alignment.
When I knock on opportunity’s door,
I must show up
as the version I trained.
In crowded rooms,
my eyes search
for responsibility.
For ownership.
For the mission.
Will my hands
become fluent in creation?
Will my breath
grow wings of courage?
Speed is useless
without direction.
Desire is fragile
without structure.
Even if I claim
I need nothing —
Purpose
still demands expression.
If I say
“I won’t lead,”
Will my potential
accept that answer?
In any direction,
the sun can rise.
If I become
the horizon.
