Through our tribulations, we might cull insight into our deficiencies. Stagnation and laxity are the banes whittling down destitute souls to their core. To transcend, one must brave one's ignorance and paucity. This solemn debt, while never uttered out loud, can be beheld throughout creation. The universe beseeches us to undergo a metamorphosis. This perpetual act of evolution sequentially separates the fit from the lethargic. A procedure, while seditiously circumvented for a time, must ultimately be paid. No soul, despite their impoverishment or exorbitance, can elude this inevitability.

The system we capitulate to under the guise of thralldom is neither benign nor malicious. It simply subsists and exceeds such shallow classifications. The only ignominy in this world is to discommode your brethren rather than confront this hurdle when it should unveil itself. This original sin necessitates penitence. To bypass its snares, we must continuously abide by absolute acuity.

But, if I abhor one thing more than debility, it is those who traipse about under misconceptions. Delusions that they are moral arbiters or, most damning of all, saviors of the downtrodden. Such vainglorious cretins, their mere permanence is an effrontery to the fundamental hierarchy of the cosmos. Vis-a-vis those rapscallions might dupe themselves into believing they are doing others a courtesy; they're, in fact, notably sanguinary.

Suppose you endeavor to oblige everyone who languishes. In that case, you will only dilute yourself and enervate them—the internal ambivalence, when confronted and subjugated on their own conscientiousness, yields the most substantial rewards. To gallivant about and ratify against that travail for others depreciates it. If you care for your kin, then dispense with empathy and cognize the virtue of letting them confront their battles. And when they triumph, they will become even stronger from that mastery of "power."

But what is power? While ostensibly simple, the question is vastly more complex than most realize. The churlish amongst us might denote it as the capability to obliterate or rive apart one's enemies and their municipalities. To the shrewd, it's guile—the inclination to contort the hearts and wills of men without effort through a series of well-placed manipulations and sycophancy. There are even some among us who might rank it as monetary. That capital alone can distort the world around us to project one's influence.  

On initial inspection, all of these answers seem prudent in their own right. However, it doesn't answer the original inquiry. What many might suggest are byproducts of power, not the thing itself—different methodologies or tools one might utilize to protect it. Power is merely an illusion. A shadow on the wall that is only made relevant when men endow it with pertinence. Its value and gravity are only as enduring as the fickled minds that imbue it with such. One's house, wealth, military, lineage, name, actions, cleverness, and more are impotent if not regarded by others. 

Throughout history, we've witnessed time and time again how grand militaries falter against guerilla tactics. Entire fields once prosperous were dried up when deemed archaic or no longer desirable by the populace. Great men and women of reason, logic, or cunningness were ignored, and thus, their voices were silenced. It profits no one to hold all these things if their brethren ostracize them. 

True power is unattainable, much like absolute independence or freedom. It's the invention of an unsophisticated mind desperately clinging to materiality—a fabrication of all species that is inescapable. Paradoxically, despite my words, there is no doubt it exists as an idea due to our fallible minds. Those who feel compelled to spout their station, authority, or power have none. True strength and eminence are silent yet transcendental. It is merely known as everyone bequeaths it into existence. Gentle, yet if unleashed, it can shift the very foundations of our globe.