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Black water. / Bubbling salt
from awful vents / as the octopi wait
for the sign from above. / Suckered arms
curl, ecstatic, / in endless sand.
Beaks click-clack / in cloaked faces;
bright skins shine / with the shimmer of speech.
Light is coming.
            Cast your eyes up
to the deep, sisters! / Down from on high
comes the ship–the seed /–shining like death,
watching with eyes / too wondrous to see,
yet blind to our awe / and our wonder.