Empty Ether

So, here’s the catch, (to end before it starts):
The Sonneteer of Hamelin comes free,
like garbage in the wind, or titans’ hearts
chilled on the rocks, abiding what will be.
A man will love a girl, whether or not
a woman will pretend to love his gift,
and helter-skelter, iced or flaming hot,
he’ll take the float, then cut her line to drift.
This happens all the while, some mother’s fool,
who took to reading Freud, but never learned,
tugged on a rope, tugged back, so cranked the spool,
eyed up his “catch,” then cursed when he was spurned.
The worlds not mine to save, nor leave alone,
can sail the great abyss above alone.