and yet
my rejection of ßelf here
is also born of love
because it folds in on itself
my doubt and denial desires
its own end
its own ends
and it grieves
full knowing
what is beyond
its means
it is perhaps when
i admit that it is my own love
that conquers itself
unwittingly
i accept
love is not so simple a thing
and only thus
i become real to me
once more
once again
happily ever after all
that kind of truth
without ends