The Center of the Galaxy

I am on the lookout for the center of the galaxy,
Because, I know, that is where I am going.

I have come and gone this way before.
So many times,
I have become disoriented.
I have refused to become confused.
But, I have heard voices,
And, I have had to made choices.
It has been a very long day,
And, I am still on my way.

I suppose this is because,
I am spinning and revolving,
And, evolving, all at once.

I have discovered that,
Besides being vibrant,
I am vibrating,
I am filled with dust.
I am filled with desires and color.
My desires are sometimes filled,
And, sometimes not.
My dust grows slowly,
Changes only year to year,
But, I have seen my colors change,
Quick as a chameleon’s wink,
Depending on if I am holding hands,
With iguanas or piranhas,
And, whether I am walking,
On the counter-clockwise trails,
With wise, left-handed lizard boys,
Or, with right-handed, painted snails.

But, when I try to follow,
The universe’s spiral ways,
Once again, I find myself,
Dancing in a haze.
Dancing in a daze.
Lost and dizzy in the maze,
Filled with alamanda flowers.

And, I am, just like the flowers,
Just like the iguanas,
Just like the piranhas,
Just like the universe,
Propelled by cycles, by reflections,
By attitudes and intentions,
By all sorts of revolutions,
By resolutions,
And, by the transformation of opposites.

I am a yin-yang, on-off electric being,
Squeezed in between a limitless infinity of light and dark,
Made of in-out tints and shades of gray,
Here-there infrared,
Devil-may-care ultraviolet,
Spinning, sputtering, neon pinwheels,
Water spouts and sand storms,
And, nearly impossible invisibility.
I am made of so many colors,
I can’t keep count.
Some of my colors have not yet,
Even been recognized.
Some do not yet have names.

In the sooner-or-later tomorrow,
My colors will change and find themselves new signatures.
Then I will be filled with smoke instead of colors.
I will be amazing and I will start my own maze,
Filled with alamanda flowers.

In those days,
I will live like an iguana,
Like a piranha,
Like a pinwheel.
I will think like the lizards think,
Like the snails blink,
Like a chameleon’s wink.

I will die like a butterfly.
I will burn like a sunset,
Caring neither where I go, nor what I get.
I will be rearranged, reassembled and regenerated.
Revolutions, without resolutions, will continue,
And, I will too.
I will come and go, again,
Still dizzy and confused.
I will search for a way,
Beyond the haze,
Beyond left and right-handed days,
Beyond the dust,
Beyond desires,
Beyond the burning sunset fires,
Beyond all the crazy tints and shades,
Beyond the colors of the world,
Because, my destiny is a black hole.

I am always on the lookout for the center of the galaxy,
Because, I know, that is where I am going.