there was wet moisture camouflaging the earth,
condensed slices of soil slept in perennial darkness,
tiny bits of stone lay embedded in loose gravel,
radiating worms weaved their way through tunnels of mud,
reptiles slithered harmlessly past dungeons of darkness,
yellow crested frogs danced in abundant ponds of water,
the Sun had never blazed on this part of the world,
sporadic outbursts of moonshine had faded long ago into oblivion,
humid pouches of air blew at sedate velocities,
entwined roots of tree and grass extruded from the mud,
thin wisps of pungent fertilizer cakes caressed the soil,
a plehtora of red ant marched boisterously towards their den,
droplets of liquid percolated painstakingly, exhausted from deep journeys of incessant travel,
a slurry of black oil and grease lay trapped at several patches,
dead mushroom chunks lay buried for decades in obscurity,
there was no adulteration in the mass of clay for millions of kilometers,
the soil was as pure as Gods bathed in rich cow milk,
with nil traces of metal, pesticide, shards of tainted glass,
and surplus amounts of crystal water imprisoned in its core,
catering to infinite numbers of scorched mouths dying in blistering heat,
all this and things more exotic existed,
an approximate thousand feet beneath the surface of mud painted earth.
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