My Masada (MAria, SAlvador, DArling Jashmina) never falls: A poem 

I realise, the merchandise of your deceit is under much duress 

I know that you are not Delilah, but my beloved Sarah 

I have lived, at evil’s hands, countless deaths 

But I know, for certain, where lies my debt 

There are angels with messages in the skies 

They tell me true love can never be belied 

There are reeds in my veins that are perennials like always spring 

And I can swear that the grief you give me 

is miniscule compared to the happiness you bring 

I am living, breathing, treading, a relentless treachery, 

but that my Masada never falls is the brave Sicarii’s key 

We are all vulnerable, but the ablest of the able 

knows that composure is strength, even if there is repeated defeat at the table 

The walls of my home are tressed in strands of that lyric 

I sing to you that song which is eternally long 

I am gifted with too much patience through every painful day 

But to Prakash Saint Paul’s evil snare, I’ll always say: NAY!