Sonnet 42.

April 10, 2011. The last night of my teenage life, and I find myself in an interesting position. Not out drinking, not in the company of some beautiful man who is both literate and sexually attractive.. but basically at home. Cucooned in a blanket made from organic cotton, drinking what's sure to be the 11th cup of coffee I've had this evening. It's hardly exciting, and barely qualifies as something to do at all. But. I guess that the entire process is a perfect reflection of who I've come to be in the last two decades. Not in the sense that I've been addicted to caffiene my entire life.. or even with respect to my tree-hugging tendancies. I guess what I'm referring to here, is the ever quiet and somewhat private approach I've taken to the biggest moments in my life.


It's slightly baffling that a person with friends in the caliber I've made, could make a decision like that.. but. Here I am. Reading "Sonnet's to the Portuguese", hoping with all of my heart that I'll one day be able to emulate the strength and grace of their brilliant author. I've been reading these poems alot, lately. More so than any piece I've ever collected. Those of you who are familiar with Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, may now be wondering what the hell I'm talking about -- if I'm at all hoping to stay on topic with this "How far I've grown in the last two decades, nonsense." Hahaha. Religiously saturated, frighteningly dependant love poetry? In what way could that possibly be relevant to my occluded point?


I'm far too tired to venture into any kind of intense literary debate here, and so I was hoping a select few lines of Sonnet 42 would speak for themselves.


"'My future will not copy fair my past'—
I wrote that once; and thinking at my side
My ministering life-angel justified
The word by his appealing look upcast
To the white throne of God, I turned at last,
And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied
To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried
By natural ills, received the comfort fast,
While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff
Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled.
I seek no copy now of life's first half:
Leave here the pages with long musing curled,
And write me new my future's epigraph,
New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!"


Without delving too much into the things I've learned from a host of giant mistakes, I really couldn't have summed up this chapter of my life any better. As I said before, the poem is FILLED with religious undertones, and of course there is the obvious reference to a type of love I've never known.. but. The sentiment is there. The.. "I'm very much grateful for the things I've learned but.. am also quite certain that there are different lessons to be learned this time around". I don't know. It's been a massively sleep-less weekend, and I was really just hoping to jot something down before I close this chapter of my life.


Probably a lot more EBB to consider over the next few weeks. Wish me luck.