Samson

Like most wise men, he was foolish

At ill-chosen places and times

For unforeseeable reasons

And unpredictable rhymes.

Believing that words meant something

That actions spoke best unexplained

That Right was something understood

And fate a thing ordained

He didn’t feel the earth moving

‘Til it rose beneath his feet

‘Til he stood his lonely, shifting ground

While the good fell back in retreat.

And when the foundations crumbled

And the earth itself shrugged at his pain

He glared at the darkening heaven

That poured forth the fire and rain.

And vanished, at last, in the mystery

Of why some men choose to stay.

Like most of the wise, he was foolish.

Like some fools, he was wise in his way.