The Graveyard
The graveyard holds the silent echoes of unfulfilled potential—the wealth of dreams that never saw the light of day, brilliance that never broke the surface. It’s not the world’s banks or towering skylines that house the most untapped riches. It’s the rows of headstones, the cold ground beneath them, cradling forgotten ideas and ambitions that perished in the hearts of those too afraid to act.
In the graveyard lies the unwritten novel that could have changed the way we see the world. There’s a melody buried that might have stirred souls for generations. The blueprint for an innovation that could have redefined entire industries lies dormant, sealed away by doubt. The graveyard is heavy with the weight of what could have been—but never was.
But here you are. Still breathing. Still standing. The soil beneath your feet is not yet ready to take you. That gnawing fear, the one that convinces you it’s safer to stay quiet, to keep your ideas tucked away—it's a lie that feeds the graveyard. And every day you let it win, a piece of you is buried while you’re still alive.
You’ve already seen glimpses of the graveyard within yourself—the dreams you shrugged off, the chances you watched pass by. But there’s still time. The graveyard doesn’t own you yet.
So the question isn’t whether you’ll take a risk. The question is whether you’re willing to let the best parts of you die before your body ever does.
