In one city lived a man who spoke correctly.
He spoke of honor, of justice, of how a person ought to live.
People listened attentively.
Sometimes with respect.
Sometimes with hope.
But when it was time to act, he chose silence.
Not out of fear — out of convenience.
He would say,
“Now is not the time.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“One must be wiser.”
And each time, his words rose higher than he himself was willing to climb.
One day, another man appeared beside him.
He spoke little.
Sometimes awkwardly.
Sometimes without persuasion.
But when a step had to be taken — he took it.
Quietly.
Without display.
Without explanation.
And then it became clear:
lofty words do not lift a person upward.
They only reveal how low he is willing to remain.
From that day on, in that city, people listened less to speeches
and watched more closely for footsteps.
Because an action always speaks more quietly —
and more precisely.