Purpose

There may be a map on my body,

it may hold the key to my origin,

somewhere out there,

beyond Arcturus,

a small galaxy lies.

In that galaxy,

consolidation is fleeting,

more temporal than these human lives.

It is a choice to become wind, or a tree,

a fox or a girl.

My lover traces her fingers over my limbs.

She goes West from Orion’s Belt,

South of the Big Dipper.

There are unnamed stars in this galaxy of me

and before I rest, I must know them all.