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The story of Samson and Delilah [in free verse]

Samson, Delilah, Samson and Delilah, Love

If music be the food of love, play on and on, while I play along
Your doe-like eyes haunt me, inaudibly, surreptitiously, emphatically
Samson, is my name, slayer of a lion with my bare hands, a man of might and mirth, born to rule the world
A judge, armed with the strength of many men, softened by your tears, drawn to your call of distress, of a seemingly desolate woman
And I inch closer and closer to my demise, sweet Delilah
Burned in the crucible of what I have sown [the death of your family], bound by my dogma YET my thirst for unchartered territory knows no bounds
Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned
Heaven hath no mercy for a man in contempt, I say

Temptress, strange 'siren' song, forbidden fruit has a taste of its own
Seamstress of ill-repute, weaving a cloak of sweet charm for me, a wolverine in sheep's clothing [for the greater good of her 'pack']
And this fire rages inside me and threatens to take over my very being
The black widow spins her web of deceit and this line between reality and contorted dreams, blurs, until there is no distinction
And I find myself, sinking into her arms, deeper into this abyss of never-ending oblivion, weak of will, from which there is no turning back...
How can I find it in my heart to love you, Rebekah?
Will you find it in your heart to forgive me, for this travesty of your love?
Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned [yet again]
But I say to you, Heaven hath no mercy for a man in contempt, a man in knowledge of his misdeeds

My enemies have besieged me, have overtaken me, bound me between these pillars
Like rabid dogs they attack & wound me, taunt me and laugh at me, in my weakest hour
There is no escape, while my people mourn for me in sackcloth and ashes
The source of my strength, secret no more, has been taken away from me
In my sleep, a stallion without his mane, fleeceless, I bleat silently... and my pain becomes your peace, Delilah
As I am made to grind, while I am mocked for sport, the enchantress revels in her riches, the blood money of many innocents
My eyes, the light of my life, snuffed out, darkness has befallen me
Betrayal, this reverie-turned-nightmare... from which there is no awakening
Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned, 'Blinded', but I see CLEARLY now
Heaven hath no mercy for a man in contempt, I find no relief and I lie in wait for the end to come... for my days are numbered...

Delilah, you will be remembered through the ages, for your ways
Bitterness is my temperament, and I will not go down quietly
O Jehovah, be merciful to me, shun me not from thy presence
Restore my strength, that I might avenge my eyes and the glory of Israel
That I might tear down these pillars of disobedience and lust, in the presence of these heathens
For one last time, as I breathe my last... far, though, from the ones I love...
So that the world will speak of the glory of the Lord, and as I decrease... He must increase
For in my weakness, his strength is made perfect
Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned, but Heaven HATH mercy for a man in contempt of his own misdeeds... in TIME!

For he who LIVES by the sword, will die by the sword and knowing this, I find my REST...
Published: 2008-11-19
Author: Daniel Chakraborty

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