Cocooned in coral, long fins glitter and gleam.
Cool, sweet oxygen filters, and I breathe deep
the dark, fathomless waves above.
Lights sweep above, too bright, flashing,
and the metal beast descends.
Brood-mother tells me they are humans,
like us, but land-dwellers. They do not understand
the singing stars and the pulse of the moon,
they sink and search, but for what?
Their ghosts linger everywhere now, and I swim on,
though every now and then a bright light pierces close, and I dart,
letting them catch a glint of my tail before I flee,
alone. Soon, the ocean will be mapped, and I will be the last.