It was a twist of a Buddhist story, I heard long time ago. The original one is rather simple, and ended when the monk revealed that the lady was the dead body, who came back for searching the one, to repay him with her love. Explain why we had what we had and eventually we will find the one.
A odd reunion, for me.
But the story supposed to ask who indulged themselves in unsuccessful relationships to let go, to take easy every time when we failed. Giving hopes as the fascinating destiny or fate will do.
Are we intelligence enough to see through this, to accept this? The fate that fail us. The chance that slip through our fingers.
It is like chasing ghosts. Or we are just trying to lie at ourselves for a little comfort?