To Porn, or not to Porn
That is the Question.
To porn, or not to porn, that is the Question:
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to indulge
The Potent Craving for enthralling porn,
Or to take Arms against a Mind shackled,
And by opposing free it: to live, to love,
No more; and by love, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Deceptions
That Porn is heir to? ’Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To live, to love,
perchance a Dream; aye, there’s the rub,
For in that thrall of porn, what dreams may come,
When we have charg’d the mind with bodies bare,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes Calamity of so hard a love:
For who would bear the Requirements of Love,
The drama of Romance, another’s Desires,
The pangs of spurned Love, it’s long Delay,
The want of Attention, and the letdown
That flawed Body of the enamor’d yields,
When we ourselv’s might our Comfort find
With an undemanding Image? Who would bear,
To give one’s self for the good of ‘nother,
But that the hope of something in such love,
The undiscovered Country, from whose Bourn
yet Happiness springs, Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear the risks perceiv’d,
Than fly to a Shadow that leaves us forlorn.
Thus Conscience doth challenge the Habit of old,
And thus blares forth a soft summons of Grace,
To Love restored, joined by a Warning grave,
Of a great enterprise of length and effort,
Unless undertaken, a Life turn’d awry,
And loss of Love itself. Be quiet now, see,
The ancient Messiah? Jesus, in thy Mercy
Be our beings heal’d.
