Ther is no beginning,
and the end
resembles a beginning
that forgot how to speak.

I ask,
but the answer
splits in two
before it ever reaches me.

Each step is a circle
in water that refuses to reflect.
I move,
but not forward.
I think,
but nothing closes.

Perhaps this is all:
stillness
shaped like motion,
a door
with no wall around it.

And still I look,
as if something
waits behind the emptiness,
something
that appears
only when I stop searching.