always. again.

if this was the end, 
i’d stop right here. X
but it’s not an end,
nor is it a beginning,
since we’ve been 
going round and round 
so many trips we've 
made the sun 
dizzy.

but those circles of
new life and old, 
beginning and end, 
never became that 
last moment or a new
magical first - just
another, as we fall
and fall, spinning in
endless embrace, 
always expecting 
to strike bottom, 
but never 
do.

that’s because we are
eternal, you and i, 
ever destined to meet 
and somehow wonder 
why we always love, 
and how we always know,
not worrying about 
when it’ll end. because 
it never will. 
there’ll just be
another. 
always. 
again.

On Day 30 of #NaPoWriMo, I was tasked to write a poem about beginnings and/or endings. But what if there are none?