Thursday, October 17, 2013

A Sonnet for my One True Love

 

Back in college, there was one Shakespearean sonnet I adored simply because it initially described my idea of what marriage or love should be.

Sonnet 116

by William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove,

Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempest and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown. although his height be taken.

Love’s not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickles compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom,.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ nor no man ever loved.

 

Well, to put it bluntly, this is the sonnet that disappointed me. I never found that kind of love. Around me, marriages were breaking apart, couples were splitting up after passionate weeks or months of being together. What once was so loved became so hated. I never trusted love after personally seeing what it can do to a twenty-year old marriage.

I would smile at heartbreaking break ups and splits and nod my head sagely saying Shakespeare was oh so wrong. I never experienced a break up myself but I considered myself lucky I was spared the trouble. I was one of the joyless club, I thought, but then I think I’d prefer to think I was part of the better-safe-than-sorry group. So I threw away that silly sonnet I carefully wrote on a piece of Cattleya note and lovingly taped on my college clipboard. Shakespeare was a fraud and love is just that, an urban myth.

And then, Love found me. My True Love found me in my most hidden corner, sulking bitterly over the silliness of life. And I learned, it’s not that Shakespeare was wrong.Its just that I have been looking for love in the wrong places. I have been searching and expecting it from other people who never really knew what Love is. I have been scouring every piece of romance novel I could find for my happily ever after and was more surprised I never found it there. True love cannot be found in a mere piece of paper or corruptible flesh. Love is this: that He gave His son, His only begotten Son, for us.

That’s love. That is my One True Love.

P.S. And yes, He proved Shakespeare right, every bit of what is written in Sonnet 116 is true.

 

 

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