A Thought That Continually Haunts Me

Is that it is nearly finished, and therefore I need to put a bow around it.  But the very act of putting a bow around it causes it to ossify and later to collapse.  And the collapse carries with it an undermining of the meaning that has undergirded my life.

I can't find a way out of this conundrum.  I feel as if I am trying to box my way out of a wet paper bag.  Futility sets in.