Sphinx

To be a conundrum
is easy.
I look out
at the confusions of others,
never ask questions of myself,
exist simply.
Since my meaning is
death,
every breath I breathe
is paradox,
and all other meanings
are relative to me.
I am the fly
in the ointment,
the carved smile
on the mausoleum,
that part of the brain
which drones,
"There's no immortality
… is there?'
If I fall silent now
it's only because
I mean to have
the last word.