"What Kings Do"

I once had a quiet evening with my mum, in that familiar stillness that always seemed to stretch time. I had written a poem about something we spoke about earlier that day. I read it to her, and when I finished, she looked at me, eyes full of something deeper than pride and said:

“You can be king, if you have the heart to take it… but you must do what kings do.”

She said it simply. But it landed with weight.
And I have carried that weight ever since.

I never asked her to explain. Maybe I thought I understood, or perhaps I was afraid to hear more. She is not here anymore to unpack it, but her words, those exact words, have followed me like a low but constant drumbeat beneath everything I do.

“You can be king…”
That was an affirmation. A seeing. She was pointing at something in me I had not fully owned yet. Something noble. Something burdened with purpose.
“…if you have the heart to take it.”
Not the hands. Not the mind. Not the charm.
The heart.

And that is where it gets real, because what do kings do with their hearts?

I have wrestled with that.
What do kings really do?

Not the ones with crowns polished by ceremony or cameras. I mean the ones whose greatness sits quietly in their choices. The ones who stay up late with the weight of decisions no one sees. The ones who love without seeking applause. The ones who bleed behind closed doors, so others do not have to.

Kings protect.
Kings provide not just materially, but with presence, with direction, with stability.
Kings make hard calls. They are not always liked.
They do not always win the moment.
But they serve a larger story.

And maybe that is what she saw in me.
Because I do carry that tension.
I am constantly reaching for the best in every person, every situation, trying to align people, ideas, outcomes, like a man arranging stars. And sometimes I get entangled in that. I stretch myself too thin. I give too much, hold too much, hesitate too long. I burn.
Not from confusion, but from caring too deeply.

That kind of weight of always looking for the best can wear you out. It can make decision-making feel like war. And I have found that I procrastinate, not out of laziness, but from the exhaustion of over-considering every possible outcome for everyone involved.

But I am learning.
I am learning that a king does not defer to comfort. He defers to clarity.
And sometimes clarity costs.
Sometimes it means letting go, even when it hurts.
Sometimes it means breaking hearts-including your own.

But still, I walk that path.
Not out of pride.
Not even out of ambition.
But because a woman I loved once told me I could be king if I had the heart for it.

Nugget: So, I am learning what kings do.
And every day, I step a little closer to it - heart first.