re-defining "barren" space

She wasn't mine. I knew that or thought that before but she's a charming thing. Sultry. Seductive. All the things you do not want her to be when she doesn't love you back. So you forget. You think only of how badly you love her, how she fills you up in places.

Meanwhile she's drumming the same swaying beat at everyone. Telling everyone to love her. But she's only capable of loving half of us back. If that. She's only able to love SOME of us back. The rest? We are cannon fodder. Devoured, disposable, disarmed. 

In revisiting I was reminded. 

She wasn't for me.

I was flying out. Up over the overcast, over the blanket of clouds. Catapulting through the grey bleak dark smother and towards red themed orange and pink speckled pocketed reflection of our solar center. Then candidly... cosmically cliché... our blue skies.

Beneath me that same blanket of clouds, now pristine and aglow- sunkissed. Dimpled by shifts of air, mounded in space, slither snake touched- all reminding me of sands after a windstorm.

I am, maybe forever, a desert creature.

No. The ocean locked, river wrapped, bayou burdened city... New Orleans, golden bustle-a-bouncing, is not my girl. I was for her, but she was delayed in being for me. So we did not belong together. Tragic?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not. In having left her, I've found other delightful things.

Things. People. Person. All forms and elements of evolution.

Components that are willing to shape towards me, around me, and so far, have shown a willingness to be for me.

It might have been environmental.

I just needed to be back under the sun.