9th January 1493, The Atlantic.

When Columbus stared into the grey Atlantic on that January morning in 1493,

We are the first here to confide in you: he didn't witness the beast.

For what would be of the sisters,

if 'not half as beautiful as they are painted'

hadn't reached your shores, wasn't to be scribed into your journals?

...

The renowned explorer's eyes had met ours.

He looked at a weathered, anciency rising from the surf and

inked our name into his log…

Debated long and hard, as our waves lapped the ship, 

 the concern resided in the human habit of consumption,

but a world that followed couldn't handle a universe at all,

shared with those they didn’t quite understand.

...

To conquer the oceans, mapping the globe into a grid of resources,

the rising tide of human progress had to strip the inconclusiveness away,

They took the tale of the Sirenians, reclassified them.

And closed the book forever.

...

Five centuries later, a careless misjudgment of the woman in your line of,

Sight, breath, thought,

May prove far more fateful than any of our song ever could,  

The waters off Hispaniola were never empty; beauty merely went beneath.

Beyond, beneath: surrounded.