A story, yes, but maybe not

Above where the stars twinkle and shine
lies the land of the now unseen
allowed to be free and loving
according to the dictates
passed through the ages to me.

It's a land of calm waters and torrents
that find their own place to be
and a land divided by thought and intent
that ensures no pollination
between the flowers and weeds
in the garden of all creation.

It births an abode of this versus that
and ‘tis the once disgraceful
who weed to no avail
and the once shameful
who drink the force of despair.

But already I am disgraceful
for how I despise the tether and tie
of my love to the wayward side
of one who knows but will not
rescue disaster's child.

And too I drink now the force of despair
and suffer unbound the raging waters
but history repeats unless, unless,
I mindfully loosen the strings
and tie them again to another.

Fingers and thumbs; what is this love
that refuses to be untied?