Thy traditions of courtly love has flowed swiftly down,
From waxing to waning moon. The books we hold unlock
Thy world’s greatest mysteries that the heart has bound,
And What if Romeo never drank for whom he charmed,
And Juliet had not died in her lovers’ arms,
Upon their tombstone would read the greatest lovers for a day,
And time has not forgotten Shakespeare for another blissful May,
And what if the greatest lovers became jealous,
Of the non-existent tale written just about us,
Of the love potion that Tristan and Isolde partook,
We may drink of the same fiery passion that shook,
The very breadth and soul of them alike,
So that the fire that pierced the eyes of Dante,
Pierce our very heart like an arrow hitting the strike.
And What if Paris would have sacrificed Helen,
So lives would not be sacrificed upon the fields of Ilium,
Would Greek Mythology then remain hollow?
Would there be no more stories to follow?
What if Odysseus had no Penelope waiting at home?
And every twist and turn he battled,
Led him closer to Ithika, but further from Rome?
And What if Florentino had no Fermina to wait on?
Would he still drink of cholera when she is gone?
Would love even be there if Noah had no Allie,
And 365 letters were not penned by his own hand,
So that the white picket fence lay upon dusty land,
As dust settles over larger rocks comprised of sand.
And what if there was love as strong as this,
So that Venus mourns for love to never be amiss,
That even Mars and Jupiter bow down to worship
The bow of Cupid which never misses its mark;
As it strikes the path of the ascending lark.
Sabbath Poetry: Coleridge
12 hours ago