I would not say I chose to love you, dear;
Although I do not love against my will.
But though it may sound dangerously queer,
It doesn't feel like choice: it is too still.
In choice there's motion, turbulent and strong,
Rushing into the path the chooser chooses.
My love, however, sings a different song
Inspired by a different set of muses,
Telling me I love and it is grand,
But that my love is present in my soul
Not from some motion I might countermand
But from a need, without which I'm unwhole.
I'm with you not from choosing, but because
Loving you is what my being does.
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