Misanthropy is too easy;
An abdication of moral
Responsibility to those
Less enlightened and inspired
Than one's own glorious self;

The response of a certain hero
Who faces down the dragon,
Then casts down his sword, deciding
It's not such a bad sort after all,
And lives in harmony with it.

It lacks the passion of pure hate,
The serenity of compassion.
A sputtering, poorly-fed flame,
Basking in its own lukewarm glow,
That heats nothing, burns even less,
Exists in a self-perpetuating
Lonely winter.