Inky Earthling Daydream
    by Rachel Leedom
The sun is begging to be nuzzled. Smatterings of color cast upon the hillside in clusters dressed up as wildflowers. Soft rolling lumps broke the flat horizon where Earth lie twisted on her side in what one can only assume was an oddly comfortable position.

A spire of black smoke rose to touch the heavens. Crystalline in its purity, the darkness ached to graze it, leaving temporal marks upon the blanket of white. The clouds laughed, amused by the presumption that they could be scarred. They had taken the shape of wispy angels, peculiar half beings of a celestial material blend. Glittering shards of water were their weapons of choice, sent down to ram through the billowing smoke below and obliterate it.

As the liquid tore through the shadows, it smashed into the frozen ground with a gentle force. Each drop as though a fairy’s fist had packed a solid punch towards Mother Earth. It was a suicide mission of course, no droplet ever survived the brutal impact. No fairy would fly away intact after such a fall. I wonder if their Earth Mother cried at their demise? It was her doing after all. And for her own selfish gain... that they must pass away in such devastating quantities.

Was it devotion that filled their elemental hearts, or was resentment for their inescapable destiny the taste on their tongues? If only we spoke the same language, what I wouldn’t give for a key to decipher their knowings and longings. Did they have faults? Cracks in their design? Any feelings about those cracks, or were they incapable of feeling lack?

The leaves dislodged themselves from their lifeline and danced to the ground in a similarly depressing fashion. The face of the Earth could summon staggering amounts of life through its pores, but its fertile soil was just as much a graveyard as it was a nursery. Two extremes coexisting in perfect harmony, feeding off one another in a monotonous cycle.

The cathedral of oaks spiraled up and outwards, guardians of the gates to the forest. Moss lined the edge of the forest floor, a distinct marker where the branches canopied the seedlings of life below, sheltering the vibrant green from withering under the touch of the blazing sun.

One could almost see the richness of the oxygen emitted from the immensely dense plant life, a world within the world that allowed for all other life forms to continue on. The lungs of the Earth pumped existence into all of its smaller moving parts, all the miniature lungs it had spawned in one form or another. The little lungs couldn’t breathe without their Mother, but she did not create selfish beings. All creations were designed to give back, to feed her in return with their exhales and their decayed flesh. A symphony of purpose and nothingness woven throughout the majestic beauty of the all that is within this Earthly daydream. 

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