…to distinguish between
            where the ending begins
& the beginning ends;
                searching, again,
for the origin of circles
            without knowing
why we need something more
        than this
furiously reproducing,
            restless
placidly self-devouring,
                Ouroboros;
seducing us with a
            forked-tongue;
a sensuous oscillation,
                licking at our skin
while we're watching
            paradox fuck ambiguity,
rapt with
            lustful disgust:
Touch & be touched
                by sensation:
Two hearts beating
            within one mother;
the instant
        between thought & action;
words forge connections
            that transcend contingent flesh,
& the warmth of your breath
         against my neck
allows me to accept
            our inevitable death.
& to no longer worry about what
        it means, because
what would that achieve?
            So let's instead ask what
we want from the answer,
        because hidden there,
deep within the question,
    meaning is waiting
patiently
        for us…