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  • We swim in times that your Mother's no longer remember. We being borne of the Ocean, to which you cannot return. Some of you still feel the call in the salt-blood of you, aching for that which I can never forget.

    A jagged womb, this water.

    It began in the old tales. When you made mention of the Moon, in breath and shyly, as if old friend. You and I, we kept the secrets of each other.

    They say it is this Moon at night that lights the path, to us. Not the Stars. And they, those lost at Sea, hear our voice in the silver. We sit with it, in the scales of our soul, waiting to greet them. Calling in siren surrender. They cannot walk the path, but they follow us still.

    And once they do,

    they will never return again.
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