Unlike some other forms of poetry, writing the sonnet, or at least in the proper fashion I am attempting, requires quiet time, free from most other distractions. It is a time consuming form which goes better for me when I set aside specific time to work on it. (Unlike say, haiku, which I can sometimes compose in spare minutes here and there, or with the TV muted during a commercial break.) Setting aside time to write a sonnet isn't always practical, but it is worth it when I do so. This makes me think I should put in the extra effort to do so for the rest of this exploration.
This sonnet came about during one such allocated block of time last week.
A deep conviction keeps your love at bay.
A passion we can never consummate.
I have no proof, but think that you would say
"It's not God's will." And I would say "It's Fate."
Dichotomy of faiths have often barred
What otherwise would yield a love sublime.
Esteem for one another would be scarred;
Sincerity would wound us in due time.
That within you which my heart would claim,
(The things I sense that you would freely give)
Would spark a conflagration all the same,
Destroying everything for which we live.
Though there are things we must not sacrifice,
The knowledge that we long to will suffice.
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