Sonnet Cxliv Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Spliced loves I have, of comfort and despair,
As taunting spirits both wraiths haunt faith still:
Now one, the better, is a woman fair
Gone wrong the other, strongman coloured ill.
Tempting me to hell my evil fiend
Only would draw the better from my side,
Might soul corrupt, turns angel devil screened,
Alters her essence pure for his foul pride.
Modified, pride turns to purity
Angel smoothing Angle’s angles rough,
Unquestioned joy is found in unity,
Drawn skeins twixt victor, vanquished, soft and tough,
Ensuring Heaven drives away Hell’s doubt,
Chance karmic waits while fate turns devils out.
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Sonnet CXLIV
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil,
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell:
Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

William Shakespeare
(2 December 2008)