The Burden of the Torch

 

There is a cost to carrying the fire.

Those who lead with purpose often forget that passion isn’t light; it’s a weight. It presses against your chest like the torch of Prometheus, a gift from the gods that singes the flesh as much as it illuminates the path. We talk often of purpose as if it’s a gentle guide. But in truth, it’s a fierce taskmaster. When you carry the torch, you do so knowing it can ignite or destroy—and that burden is yours alone.

To walk this road is to be misunderstood. People see the flame but not the fuel. They admire the glow but never witness the sleepless nights, the silent wars, the quiet decisions to keep going when it would be easier to quit. Passion is not convenient. It arrives with heat, with hunger, with holy unrest. It demands sacrifice, and it often takes more than it gives.

But here is the paradox: those who burn often become beacons.

The burden of the torch isn’t just about the heat. It’s about knowing that your very act of carrying it might be the reason someone else finds their way. You walk forward not just to fulfill your own mission, but to prove that walking through fire is possible. To lead is to be both consumed and creator—and to know that the line between the two is always razor-thin.

Next: Fuel or Burnout—How do we sustain the fire without letting it consume us?