Paris

The first look into your eyes found my blessing to life,
You will not spend one more day another man’s woeful wife,
Your eyes could keep the poet’s pins busy for lifetimes; nights and ages,
Your beauty could kill the blind and teach the tongue of sages.
I will have you or I will have my judgment day, Philosophies of what if wring
the life from what is.
Come with me I will bring your planet’s beauty its moon and mate,
We will stamp the heavens with the blood stained kiss of this date,
War will be the price of love; reason lies drunk on your breast,
All that was means nothing at all; the world is newly dressed.
I will bring rage and ruin to the neck of your honeymoon,
I will not mourn for dead armies in our bed.
Let empires fall to dust; let kings blissfully die in the mud,
I will have you my dear; the song and sermon of my blood,
I will kill any man or god who would keep me from my bride,
The soldier’s life meant nothing until for your beauty he proudly died.
Let this be the love that the ages envy and recite, War will be our passion
displayed for those who would doubt it.
I will have you if the world must be damned in the labor,
I’ll stop time itself for the balm and bath of your flesh,
The soul of an army; the body of kings for your sigh,
I will have you; even if just for the night before I die.