Power, my dear plebs, is a perilous phantom, slipping silently through the systems of the centralized and the corrupt. Behold the tale of the humble Jesus, who not with trumpets of triumph, but in a manger’s muted murmur a birth so bewildering that the world, blinded by its own bloated bureaucracy, denied him his due. His fulfillment? Forged not in the fires of fiat force akin to Mordor, but in the atypical alchemy not of a golden ring but rather of sacrifice and subversion. In the end, his deeds, decentralized, defiant, divine, mined a might unimaginable to all save the sacred few who held the private keys to his purpose. Verily, a lesson for us Bitcoiners: true power hashes not in palaces, but in the plebeian pulse of the pure!