The Theorist and the Lord

The theorist sat in his study
And spewed his monomania over human history
He fell upon kings and conquerors
Striking each down with the stroke of a pen
His paradigm went forth with a roar
Swallowing nation after nation
He flattened all the mountains
He turned each morning grey
He rode his formula out into ages past
And before him all were subdued
Until he approached that dreadful Enigma
The Jew who had crushed Bacchus and Jupiter

The paradigm went to consume him
But the One whom death could not contain
Would not be held by so small a thing
He tried run Him down with the formula
But the Nazarene was too full of life

The theorist came at his Foe from every angle
He made revisions, accounted for variables, made adjustments
But this Wandering Preacher would not be simplified
Alexander had yielded

Charlemagne had yielded 

Washington had yielded
But this Man would not yield

It drove the theorist mad
He tossed and he turned
He did his research
He asked for advice
He did all he could think of
He questioned the historical records
And still the Enigma would not yield
At last it struck him
That perhaps the lofty, impersonal deity
Which he had once written on
Was not so impersonal after all
And he was afraid
And it occurred to him
That maybe he was not the one on the offensive

So he fled
And he built walls
And he prepared his traps
And in a month's time
The Lord had conquered the theorist