If you love something, set it free
If it comes back, it is true
If it does not, it was never meant to be.
Authorship is clear
It is one with a definition of love
That is as easy to replace
As a well worn glove.
Or by one who was not confined
By the complications of real life
And was lucky enough to have their love return
Without loss or pain and strife.
Not addressed is the utter despair
Of finding your heart lost
Of the pain and emptiness
Of the deep and bitter cost.
To share ones soul, ones future, ones dreams
And then release it with no hope
Leaves one helpless
In the dark to feebly grope.
The claim that love mutual
Can always find a way back
Is the simplistic rationalization from one
Who has never suffer such an attack.
There are some not of a spirit
That they can move between matches a will
For them such relationships are not trivial games
Such losses their very will can kill.
Simple views of release and return
Are fine in worlds of fantasy
Where all things good can always find a way
To overcome all difficulties and reality.
And for those that can move
Almost routinely between opportunities
Not those how invest their entire being
Into the single route they know is their destiny.
To see what they know to be right
Slowly slipping from their view
Just out of reach, just out of touch
With nothing within their power to do.
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