Titanic

Confidence, when stripped of the discerning garment of Wisdom, is but a sail hoisted against an untamed gale. The spirit swells with the belief of its own invincibility, mistaking audacity for capability. The ruin begins not with a loud crash, but in the quiet refusal to heed the low warnings of the experienced mariner, dismissing their counsel as the timidity of lesser men. Thus, the unguided soul presses forth with blind, relentless speed—a ship with an engine but no rudder—until it inevitably strikes the hidden reefs of reality, shattering the vessel and burying the ambitious ego beneath the very waves it sought to conquer. The true tragedy lies in the discovery that the force meant to elevate, was the very instrument of the fall.