Irrigable

There is only love when we leave the other behind – our world of others: Commitments deemed by self so paramount, we become perpetually addicted to treadmills; inducted wrong-tracks adhering as a second skin – The rain can fall but the plain will never give back, if the permeable depths irretrievably No benefit by making of one's self a non irrigable desert – having wandered too far and stored up too little – the well used sayings about burning bridges and being a spendthrift, they apply to the heart and soul as well-- Love often...but wisely....