Hobbes

Hobbes, Hobbes, burning bright,
in the forest of the night.
What immortal hand or eye,
could break thy fearful symmetry.

The Hobbes-herd bred him,
the lamb heard him.
As thy cries streaked through the night.
Hark! What a lonely sight.

The poison tree. Could it maketh right?
What dreadful rites?
What dreadful fights?
Who dare seize thine rights?

In what furnace was thy brain?
in which interregnum by, thou art claimed?
The sick rose on its bier,
as flames continue to sear.

For in what shadow was Calvin found?
One that cannot utter a single sound?
And Hobbes twisted the sinews of Calvin's heart,
till from Heaven and Hell, cannot tell apart.

For Calvin, the doves wept,
the wales swam a deeper depth.
The stars cry out each night,
as if to echo his pitiless plight.

A forest by fire ravaged,
and a tiger by pain savaged.
With sin and gin,
to find thy next of kin.

Hobbes, Hobbes,
burning not too bright now.
What immortal hand or eye,
could break thy sombre symmetry?

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 4:44 pm