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“Oh, love. Dearest and wildest of things! You cannot force love. Just like confidence or humility; like spring and rain — it is, or it isn’t. Love is like a wild songbird; you cannot be proud to own her, nor cage her in order to possess her, and then ask her to keep silent. You cannot own her nor can you tame her; she needs to be free, you need to let go of it. Open the gates of that cage and let her go, let her fly away. She must be free to decide if she wants to stay. If she goes away, she must be free to decide if she wants to come back. Love is the wildest of creatures; she is not easy to find nor is she easy to keep. She is priceless, yet she isn’t for free, but if she isn’t free she cannot be true — it cannot be love.” — Becky M.R.
Oh, love.
Dearest and wildest of things!
You cannot force love.
Just like confidence or humility;
like spring and rain —
it is, or it isn’t.
Love is like a wild songbird;
you cannot be proud to own her,
nor cage her in order to possess her,
and then ask her to keep silent.
You cannot own her
nor can you tame her;
she needs to be free,
you need to let go of it.
Open the gates of that cage
and let her go,
let her fly away.
She must be free to decide
if she wants to stay.
If she goes away,
she must be free to decide
if she wants to come back.
Love is the wildest of creatures;
she is not easy to find
nor is she easy to keep.
She is priceless,
yet she isn’t for free,
but if she isn’t free
she cannot be true —
it cannot be love.