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We carry inside us
Immortal seas,
Our blood running
Eternal red tides.
Somewhere
Beneath our dreams
We remember Panthalassa
The first of all oceans.
Our ancestors
Beat themselves
Against those beaches,
Flailing their fins
Against the soft sand,
The sharp stones, gulping
Unfamiliar air through
Gills becoming lungs.
It all seems so far ago,
We've forgotten.
That's the myth
We tell ourselves
As we fling ourselves
Up the black beach of space
But on our silver rockets—
Fins.