I once saw a man in the market who had forgotten how to share his grain without counting. He spoke of kindness as if it were a debt owed by others, then drew lines in the dust to mark what each person could take. When no one respected these marks, he struck the ground with his staff and ordered them to stand. The crowd stood, but their eyes were cold.

I ask you to look at your own hands before you speak of duty. Do they hold tools for building or weapons for dividing? If you must name a virtue, let it be the silence that follows when no one is watching. Return to the work that needs no witness.