The strongest hand is not the one that strikes before the fear has passed. It is the hand that still can shake, yet chooses peace when hate is cast. For rage is easy, swift, and loud; it asks for nothing but a spark. Mercy walks the harder road, a quiet flame against the dark. To spare a soul is not to yield, nor turn away from what is right. It is to carry strength with grace, and guard the dawn instead of night. May I be measured not by battles won, nor by the enemies I fell, but by the moments I had power— and chose compassion all the same.