Land Octopus

I found a nice knoll this afternoon, worth a stroll and a quiet picnic, and some grass on which to journal. I didn't, the sky's allure was simply intoxicating. Drunk as the bees buzzing in the clusters of dandelions, I just smiled. I dreamed the stars in the sky were falling, and I grew frustrated at every wish I missed, until I realized the stars were streaking down the sky and crashing into my garden, burning entire rows of carefully cultivated crops.
I watched as the barrage from the heavens first decimated, then obliterated every last pea, squash, pepper, tomato, or herb I'd watered, fertilized, and meticulously weeded for weeks, months. Everything was a charred wreck, a blackened, smoldering mess that bubbled like a marshmallow fallen off the stick.
Full of anger, I rushed into the center of the garden, kicking the coals and snatching them up in my fists. It burned, but I was determined to show my ferocity, my fire, was the hotter.
Let go of the coals
Open your fists, and let go of the coals
Open your fists, anger will not solve this, and let go of the coals
Slowly, painfully, I released the coals and, kicking aside the ash that was my garden, I buried each one, the burning remnants of stars. There were no longer any stars in the sky - it was an empty heavens, a blank, black canvas.
When I woke the next morning, the coals had sprouted into flowers of all colors and heights, towering as tall as sunflowers, or huddled close like daisies, and they bloomed in turquoise, citrine, opal, sapphire, peridot, ruby, pearl, emerald, diamond, aquamarine, and garnet. Each color was arranged in rows and formed an intricate squarish-spiral inwards, towards a central flower with a brilliant amethyst purple for each petal and a golden heart. It was tall, as tall as I, and I felt it was staring into me as I stared at it.


I'm an octopus on land, and I can't feel my toes. I want to run and play, but my legs have me anchored here, and I don't have any bones. Dip your pen into my soul and ink will run, thick as blood, and stain your fingers black. So graceful in water, so fragile on land. I'll be braying like a moose in a tree until you free me stuck though I be by my own sucking immobility.