Rule of Thumb

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"Place your trust in the Lord above"
The boy Thumb had been told.
"All comes to he who waits awhile,
Patiently to find."

Gimlet-eyed in murky halls
A lowly servant schemed,
Hatching a way to raise himself.

"I will make this world my own
And rule its heart."

Seven felt his rusty blade
In just as many years.
Each time he wept then turned his face.
Smiled and took their place.

Between him and the rule he sought
A wizened hermit lay,
Master of ritual, man of rite.
Kings bowed to his law,
But Thumb would strike once more
In the night.

Thumb: "Now, now my stars
        Guide this my hand
        Raise me to where I should be
        King of this land."

Hermit: "Not while my soul
         Stirs in these halls
         Will you be free of this curse,
         My crimes are yours
         To take,
         To your grave."

Hear me, 
    Dreams of open doors...
Revere me,
    Each day is a war...
Fear me, 
    Plots among the poor...
Near me.

Thumb approached his ruler's door,
But softly from within
Whispered a voice that froze his steps,
"Thumb, this is your king."

"You shall rule on my behalf,
But not for very long,
Each who like you dreams of a throne
Has you in his sights
And so may strike this night,
Or the next..."

Thumb: "Now, now my stars
        Guide this my hand
        Raise me to where I should be
        King of this land."


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