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That first disk of cells, held in place

like a map clamped to a table.

Fate maps, coded cartography of coasts,

unroll their silent directions.

This to become bone.

This to become brain.

And the disk curls into a little boat,

into a tube—like the topography of origami

pleating from two dimensions into three.

Maps have a history, an evolution.

What was peninsula on ancient charts

becomes island. Small continents swell,

large extrusions dwindle. Until it emerges—

the familiar shape of a world.

And so a fetus changes. Pharyngeal arches shrink

to the delicate bones of the face. Limb buds lengthen

from rounded paddles to extensive isthmuses.

As though a child’s unfolding

is less a tale of growth

than of discovery.

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