Galadriel's Choice

Silent hope beats in the heart,
mixed with the fear of failure,
for valiance is proven in the art
of preserving loyalty in the behaviour,

when tested amid seductive trials,
the domain of inner strength,
then weakness battles in denial,
seeking excuses, while one repents.

Galadriel stood by the well
that predicts doom of the races.
As if a mirror beyond mere spells,
true teller, not of fortune, but of faces.

She wanted to ignite within
the spark of higher immortality,
not innately, despite all sin,
but the one gained in legality;

the legality of choice,
when all depends on action,
yet accumulated noises
lead to fatal retraction.

Galadriel felt the Ring's presence.
The accursed Ring of one's pride,
of greedy loss of forbearance,
when one sinks in its desperate night.

Frodo, amid the vision of doom,
discouraged by malignant prophecies,
offered her a gift that consumes,
yet wholehearted, innocent; promising.

"My Lady, the Ring shall be yours."
Frodo passed the test of his soul.
Giving it away despite its evil core;
for its core we know, was foul.

Galadriel was thundered,
by the ultimate superior wrath,
she burst in colours bewondered,
by those observing her path.

"I shall be the Goddess Queen!"
"I will rule wise and sincerely!"
"No glory so far has been seen!"
"I shall reign and you ~ shall fear me!"

Alas, the blast of the ego,
soon decays to pitiful illness...
And she... managed to let go...
Suddenly! Eternal stillness...

And Eru ignited the Flame,
imperishable but now empirically.
She refused mortal fame.
And she rose before God,
with increased seniority.

Frodo saw her humble down.
He withheld his giving hand.
She did wear a beautiful crown.
Yet Unity for those who understand.

Frodo saw a strangest spark
in her eyes of magical bewilderment.
Galadriel saw it. Primordial dark.
The Cosmos of the Firmament.

Eru smiled in her mind.
He caressed her cheek so pale.
He was forbearing and tamed.
He was content, for she prevailed.

"Galadriel, you indeed are worthy."
"I have... passed the test?"
She glanced at the value of service.
Yet... trials know no rest.

"Don't you let down your guard, dear,
Galadriel of Lothlorien's Light,
never stop by to snooze, for death's near...
The Star may lose its might."

She felt something linger, non-rinsable.
It was the departing glow of the Eldar.
For a second there she had felt invincible.
Now dependent, seeking shelter.

She crushed her spirit, for the sake of goodness.
Galadriel, in sync, In Victory One.
She smiled at Frodo's wit.... "Now go to rest."
This Elve refused the Ring...

and won.