When day’s legs grew dreary and
the giant was almost home to dreamy land,
she hurried to him sleuthing
whilst the Philistines came sluicing.

“Samson, Samson, Samson!
Tell me, oh Samson, where is thy strength?”
The heavens drew stiff and the earth beneath it bent,
as the giant’s lips broke and begin to speak at length:

“I shall not care for them who dare to wear my muscles beyond repair,
but if by day or sudden night they disunite my hair, my love, I fear, I might die;
so as soon as day had fully dried, when stars could no longer hide,
she glided from her wretched side a blade to be laid upon his hair;
and when love had trimmed his might,
the enemy then rained down on him from the sky.

Although ever blinded,
they once more looted him of sight
and bind his relics to the hellish-gimmicks of the high-minded,
who mocked his plight, but
not knowing he held within the force to source one final fight.

“Beautiful and merciful God, in whose hands I deal with this life,
Favour your son a final choice;
let me to bring our enemy to grieve and strife,
For they have spoken of me in an immoral voice.”


Then an uncommon disaster was summoned, which
killed every philistine man and woman;
their entire empire trembled to shambles, not even the giant survived,
‘cause the wrath poured so incessantly from heaven
no escape could have connived.