'New Home' by Ravyn LaRue

I moved in today.
He claimed I had too many belongings, but I don't agree.
I've diminished my worldly goods exponentially with every move.
This is my third real one.
I finally have a view from my window.
A city bustling beneath my feet.
Owls on the Library glaring at me.
Fog draped around the skyscrapers, beckoning me to look to the heavens.
It feels so vast.
Just as white as always, but there's wideness for my soul to spread out in.
There's space to write and draw.
But no connection to the grand portal.
My feet are free, and my bed is the ocean, only softer.
My life is tempest enough, my bed best be calm and serene.
The mate I was promised looks nothing like her self, but she's far better than my wildest dreams imagined her as.
Emergency vehicles fly down the street below, and I hear every sound of commotion.
I feel free amidst the turmoil and trepidation of others outside.
The air will no doubt freeze me, but I have enough to do, and have felt enough singeing to ignore the chills.
This will be my new home-
And it's sad to say, but I much prefer it to the comfort and warmth within family I've felt.
Though I have my remembrances.
A shrine to my puppy and past.
Books for the future.
Lots of emptiness to grow into, when the time comes.
My feet can't even reach the floor, yet.
I feel like someone pressed re-start on childhood.
And as frightening as that has the potential to be-
I feel entirely liberated.
I'll find the nearest tree and climb it with the best of 'em.
She could be such a good friend, and I am open to it.
I've just accepted that we are each-other's, and unless she tells me otherwise, that's how it is.
I won't mind her music, and hopefully she won't mind mine.
I hear the growls outside, and though my true companions are miles and miles away-
I haven't a single shred of fear in my bones-
Only boiling anticipation.
I'm drumming percussion on chairs, as the overture plays.
I cannot even wait for this adventure to begin.
I wouldn't put on airs, love.
And I know I need to write what I need to write-
Lest I fall irreconcilably behind.
But the tremors of excitement that tremble beneath my broken old toes, make me feel like jumping.
I have the window seat- I'm so happy about that.
I claimed to have no preference, but that's just since I wanted to seem gracious.
But I won it, I think, somehow!
I spotted spirals-
This really must be home for me!
I mean, I wear them well enough, but that's different.
Still there are mystical places here, that, due to my past, I dare not explore.
I may want to perform miracles, but I'm too afraid of becoming lost to all I adore.
It's a primal fear that still gets to me, regardless of all else.
I mean, imagine it, someone you love unable to sense or see or recognize even the tiniest trace of you.
But I have my moments, when I want nothing more than that-
When that all-seeing brightness shines upon me, and my voice is not my own.
I want to dance here.
I could see myself dancing all through the night, scaring off her visitors.
I'd dance anyways.
But I hear the others, so I'll hold off for now.
Yet that spirit is inside me, attempting to provoke my limbs.
Oh, my spirals and owls and matching blue glass.
This is such a pretty place.
I can hardly wait for nightfall-
I found an old list, it's actually very pretty-
You never know what you'll find in gently used diaries.
I digress when I think, but I suppose that's only natural.
And although hometown glory is still present in my mind, the glory I sense here, is far more captivating.
I apologize, I must go.
I've been summoned by my brother, but I'll be back soon.
Don't you even worry.