on this epicycle

I can't tell if its ending or opening up even more
so many fantastic turns
rare consistencies keep reaing their heads
secrets reveal themselves and nobody flinches
brilliant and stupid all in the same
faster
slower
sudden and prolonged
more breath to change
more breath to find things the same
cyclical and contradictory
decorated and raw
Is there grace?
I lap it up with a thirst seemingly unquenchable