While the silverfish were preparing for bed they came. The moon had not yet set but there were leads. A way home, forwards they came. It was by bridging and tunnelling the original pathways were formed, but water was a few beats behind also.
So they came, the first settlers, so I will come to lay my track. My industry, my heritage, my family- our world. We sound the alarm in our smell and our cooking is music. Our sound is the sea also- in the shells of our sea cousins.
Will you also remember to talk and whisper the directions. The songs are wings, the water is a few beats behind us.