Set the past free

Standing with the sand beneath the feet, only gravity and stubbornness keeping me on an level platform, even though when it comes to you there is never any equality

Always a figure of fascination and mystery, lingering there day and night, hidden in the shadows but never out of sight

Are you a ghost or a memory of everything what should have been meant to be

Set the past free 

Starring far out to sea, the clouds are no where to be seen and all is calm and serene on the surface at least, the one place far from your embrace

Inspiring and motivating whilst at the same time distracting and leading thoughts astray 

The figure of a perfect escape, the merest whisper of your deep voice was enough to reduce all focus to ashes and dust, ambitions left to rust, leaving only a silent plea

Set the past free

Release from these memories and be as you once were, before it all began and lead reality into an absurd tangle

The impossibilities are all there, without a word or care, you use to stop and stare, silence reigned supreme in your kingdom, leaving a lasting impression, a figure of unappreciated perfection 

And yet still you won’t set the past free

Imprisoned by stubbornness of the mind, that has confined to keeping your presence as a remedy but never a cure

Nothing less and nothing more, never dare mention the words worship and adore

Would you kindly leave if I said please, or offered one final embrace, in the wake of this disgrace

Congratulations belong to you, an iced heart that lingers within, cannot withstand the force of your presence and command

And yet still you won’t set the past free

If all that was ever wanted was some effort in proving that it was worth something to be

Standing here as the sea closes in on the beach, willing myself to practice what was preached

To what degree will you go to win this metaphorical war, in my solitude you have won

Though you are no longer here, and never will be, still you refuse to set the past free

Or was it all up to me in reality

There is no fairytale or any violins playing a melody to signal your arrival

As though you were the only one meant for a souls’ survival, in some fantastical revival

Unable to set the past free

Yet there you linger cloaked in mystery, and liberty becomes a thing of history

Set the past free

And let life be as it was meant to be

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