Rumplestilskin’s Code Of Honor

don’t you feel a sort of sad awe
for the first light man
who denied that he’d found himself in thrall
to a dark man’s baritone?

can’t you give a half-felt shout-out
for the first woman whose head just about fell off
when she saw how people loved her more
when she just gave in and kneeled?

haven’t you expected this
for most of your time here —
an instant of realization
that nothing’s easy sometimes

except the acceptance
of untenable events?
that sometimes ending up end-up
is the only way to survive,

if not thrive?  how hard is it
to put off thriving for an unknown while
and fall in, tow the line,
even if you rot a little bit while it goes on?

will you muster a shamefaced pat on the back
for these hypocrites now?  a second of acclaim
for their failures? a startled, stifled gasp of recognition
that they must have felt what you feel now —

you’ll never be completely aligned
with everything you claim to honor.
that’s obvious now.  you know too much
about what you’re not capable of —

so now, at last, don’t you sorta envy
that dwarf with the unguessable name
and his ability to (when all else was lost)
tear himself in half and disappear?