Power is a Double-Edged Sword

There is something intoxicating about power. Intoxication is a disorienting matter, and so not everyone who has power should be followed where they lead.
 There are reasons for this.
There was a time when political power was inherited by the sons and daughters of kings; others got their power and legitimacy through convincing of the largely superstitious, that they had seen visions and had dreams from supernatural beings. History is now drenched with the blood of those who dared oppose the rules set by many such monarchs and holy men crazed by the legitimacy of authority over people who really had no say in selecting them. Inheritance and claim of such authority over masses of people is today under serious challenge. Democracy, and more of it, is the cry of people who have shaken off every shackle those in authority have sort to place upon them.
 But it is clear that power has a trickle down effect; it not only intoxicates those who seek and gain it, but also those close to the ones who acquire it or have it thrust upon them, and these, the little ones, are the most dangerous of all.
 Power is such a pungent thing, that not long after the powerful has taken his seat on his throne, those close to him begin to  be drunken by, what I must think of, as the fumes  that emanate from the throne. Somehow it appears that there is no more power-drunken individuals among humans than those that wait to slurp at the bottom of the dripping cup of the supremely powerful. They remind me of the snakes, tigers and lions that kings of the eleventh and twelfth centuries  were known to have kept around them. They were not kept close only because of their exotic presence, but also for the purpose of keeping the masses in their places.
 Power is like a fire, it not only warms the one who holds it, but those closest to that one as well. This power is not only used to intimidate people, but it is also used for gain: the acquisition of wealth and privilege, which in turn provides opportunity for even more wealth and privilege.
 Those near the powerful, too, are kept in their places, but they do not mind eating the crumbs that fall from the master's table because it is better than the grub consumed by the masses. The further away from the table of the most-powerful that one operates, is the mealier the crumbs become, until it more and more resembles the grub of the masses. Those among the least of the ones near power, are the most dangerous to the one in power, because they are closest to the masses, and there is but a step between  the crumbs they receive and the grub the masses are compelled to make-do with. It is the ones that deem themselves not close to the supremely powerful, and yet not quite among the masses, that form the head of the fountain that may threaten to bursts the dam.
 Deciding whether to break ranks is not an easy thing, because these persons usually recognize themselves as still being among the powerful, more so than among the masses, and as such feel the need to trod carefully as there is more to lose than gain in this position. It is not an easy decision, too, because these are the people to whom the grub-eaters have looked to bring the grub down to them perhaps for quite a long time, and if they are, in the eyes of those furthest from the source of the grub, no longer connected to the source of the grub, they are likely to be rejected and replaced by whichever new, nearer-the-supreme-power convinces them that the grub will continue to flow  in increasingly better quality and abundance.