When Claws Dug For Moments

There were giant toads in that time and small descendants of monsters. Limbs scuttled and leapt, Thorns and fangs began to flower as winged, but yet brainless insects fed through straws in their bulbous heads. The glory of the frangipani arose brightly in a steaming morass. Green became a color, rainbows arched over living volcanoes. These early times had not any moments but only a flood of blood, a flow and pulse. A simple deadly song that lingers on even unto now.