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.