Salt-water meets fresh and becomes shore. There, upon the pebble-pelt of the sand two logs lie sleeping. Foosteps of a God, no two, no three, patinate the edge of the world. There, in that place was breath given, lustre of life, soft skin, pulsing red blood. Teeth, nails, hair. Ask and Embla. Standing now, looking out to sea. We the human-born salute the ocean that bore us here. Smoothed us, suckled our bones, stole our sap. Beneath the waves. Beneath the waves. Twice-born we now emerge: truth-seeking, roaming spirits, seers, healers, tellers of tales and sharers of song we are the adventurers of this Middle Earth.