INSTINCT

The Minstrel 
Its crazy, you know. The way power works.
No, not P=IV or the integral of Force-Time.
I mean power. Real Power.
Control. Being able to manipulate your surroundings. Efficiently.
Its like coasting downhill. ALL THE TIME. Or at least when other people are driving.
Driving. Heh. Yeah. You have the wheel.
Everyone else is either walking or in the trunk. Maybe you switch with a fellow car-driver. It doesn’t matter. You have a car and to everyone else a horse and buggy.
And things don’t get buggy. Well, at least not for long. Inspiration of a variety sources means you keep your power for as long as you live. Until you die.
No, not die. But lose it all. You know, ‘die’. When something better, more hip, more cool, comes along. When you are no longer the alpha dog.
But what's strange is that the dogs that think they have power are lying to themselves. Well, I guess its not lying, persay. They are just following their instinctual drive. No, the one with real power is the one who stands tall.
No, not trees. Not mountains, not anything of the sort.
With a single, sonorous whistle he can call the dogs in. With a whip he keeps them in order. With a shot he can end the reign of any vicious tyrant. With care he may inspire unending loyalty, with his tools wild fear, with a single moment an end of power. 
I don’t really know what else there is to say. I guess maybe its that wolves will kill man’s dogs, but often not the man himself. Its just too hard. 
Anyways, just remember some cliches: Its a dog eat dog world, and there is no honor among thieves.  
So yeah, its pretty crazy how that works.