Lady, Choice

Her weapon descends, my own rises.
One poet-warrior now realizes
No blade but needle e'er pierced me through.
One trouble leads to trouble anew.
Total terrible trouble totals things I dare do.
I'd have done it twice, if I'd known to.

Her weapon ascends, my own falls
Already she disarms all soldiers on walls
Though this castle is, or was mine,
Each of my men would stand in line
To catch glimpse of God's daughter, so fine.
A heady quaff, to parched throats, of good wine.

My weapon flashes, up toward her throat.
I would that this were all she wrote,
But disarming her arm of its sharpened arms,
I now fall prey to her powerful charms.
None of my men show any alarm
When I refuse to do her more harm.

I drop my weapon. I drop to my knees,
Begging fair lady with one poor, strained, "Please..."
Casting her spell with the wink of one eye,
I'm hers to command, to live and not lie.
Fair lady speaks. "Know ye why
"I have come, so ready to die?

"I come for you, to know why you try,
When so very often you wish but to die.
Why do you keep going when all seems lost?"
I to the lady, "Because I know the cost.
If my soul were to be covered in frost,
Millions would rue it. Millions lost!"

Hers, in every way, to command,
She asks me, "Poet-warrior, please stand."
Now rising up on my feet,
Lady before me makes all feel complete.
Gone is all anger, gone pain, gone war-heat.
This my state, when choice lady I meet.

This my full reason why I try.
She is my Why.
My Why I Don't Die.