What Quickens Me to Write this Villanelle?

What quickens me to write this Villanelle?—

Love's river which has found its way to me.

But is it God's or hers? I cannot tell

Because both streams flow uniformly well.

Each is a harbour of serenity.

What quickens me to write this Villanelle?

No doubt I turn into a spry gazelle

Before them, swollen with vivacity.

But who gives greater joy? I cannot tell.

When I'm a missing lamb, He is my stell,

And when I'm life's lost tune, she's harmony.

What quickens me to write this Villanelle?

And though I feel an ever-rising swell

Of 'hereness' filling me abundantly,

Who's causing this sensation, I can't tell.

But this I know: within my mortal shell,

They've built a man who strives for probity.

Love's river makes me write this Villanelle,

But God's or hers? I have no need to tell.