In Soren Kierkegaard's “Attunement” of Fear and Trembling, the author produces four beautiful variations on God's temptation of Abraham in Genesis 22. In each, Abraham fails his test somehow; although in each he offers his son, he lacks the complete movements of philosophy and faith that the true Abraham made. Each is closed by a brief image of a child being weaned, presumably a metaphor for the past story. Typical of Kierkegaard's non-prescriptive style, we are told that these stories are how a certain man tried to understand Abraham; we are invited, but not forced, into the contemplation of these various stories. There are numerous connections between each account of Abraham and the subsequent text, but the reason or meaning behind this proliferation of Abraham remains unclear, and the metaphors even less so. By examining the source of the stories and our process of understanding in terms of forces of thought and belief, we can see the emergence of Kierkegaard's self-styled poet role in the form and purpose of these Attunement narratives. These stories are given to the reader second-hand, as the labors of a man Kierkegaard knows or imagines. It is important that the reader knows the man's reasons for producing these alternative possibilities of Abraham's trial, and what this man seeks to gain from examining each of them. This man is paradoxically presented as “no thinker, [who] did not feel the need to go beyond faith”. At the same time, he is not a perfect example, much less a knight, of faith. Even though he is not a thinker, he still uses his worldly and rational powers to produce and analyze these stories. It is the “thrill of thought” that drives his obsession towards… medium of paper… which managed to represent the first example of a hero-loving poet at work in this new order. The best image of this poet that Kierkegaard offers is that of one who "wanders past everyone's door with this song and his speech, so that everyone can admire the hero as he is, be proud of the hero as as". In narratives and metaphors we have heard Kierkegaard's song. It's tightly constructed, divided into choruses and refrains, as a song should be. Like the words of a song, it resists being nitpicked to produce false meanings. It is meant to be placed in your pocket and subsequently contemplated in whatever place and time suits its contemplation. It's an invitation to go out, but it doesn't force anyone to follow it. If a listener chooses to join the poet, the song does exactly what it promises and baffles the listener, who can now admire Abraham just as Kierkegaard does: in perplexity..