samson and delilah

He was a Herculean figure in anyone’s mind
It didn’t bother me though
For a man is not a man without a woman.
I wasn’t fearful of him, no
That would have been patronising
To fear a man of which his power was rooted in his hair?
Without his hair he was nothing,
As I soon found out
Without his hair he was like every other power hungry peasant
Hopeless, and in no way worthy of my accompaniment.
He was spellbound by love
In a way which only love can achieve,
As I sat there watching down like the eagles that swooped from above
I couldn’t help but realise, Samson was no longer a homicidal Hercules
He was more of a balding peasant who could barely hold his own weight
O how gay the birds had suddenly sounded as Samson awoke.
I suppose it was wrong,
But it felt so right,
With the god that had driven him to his destiny overlooking his unavoidable fate
And the peasants that were left after my Hercules had finished his killing spree
Crowding the doorway.
I don’t know how such a foul deed could be carried out under the eyes of god,
But whatever the reason,
Love is avoidable
Fate is not.