Judah Ben Hur: Vengeance

It had kept me going.

The hate.

The chance to pull through

And see him again,

And kill.

Had he not killed

Everything I treasured

Family, estate, position?

Thrusting me to slave ships,

And my loved ones

To ill-lit lock-ups.

He was a boyhood chum

Gone from Jerusalem

Thralled by Caesar

And army opportunity.

He could not countenance

Coldness to Roman ambition.

I became

As good as dead.

But the fates were kind.

I am here to race

In Pilate’s Grand Circus.

And to humble him,

Massala, master charioteer.

How is it that I sense

One of us will not

Walk out of this thing

Alive?

 

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