Belgium: Outshined by a Meteor
This feeling I recognize. It is the feeling of not being picked for a childhood team. It is the feeling of being outshined. Not by an actual bright star. But by a flaming flash. A soaring meteor. Likely born of insecurity. I won't compete. And instead trust hard-earned sureness in myself. I walk down the cobblestone street. Slowly. Heel. Toe Feeling my feet. And their connection to the earth. Solidly on the ground. Looking through windows at Belgian chocolates and lace. At passersby with waffles piled high with chocolate and strawberries and whipped cream. Most of the time being reliable. And steady. And strong. Does not draw invitations. Or flirtations. It is being picked first for valued tasks. And being picked last. Or not at all. By those I respect. And love. For diversions. While the meteor. Whose light is a temporary one. Is taken into the fold. With what seems like no effort. At all.