"Children play on the fringes of the cosmos. The silver moon hangs upon the wings of pink clouds beyond the blue sky. The waves crash upon the reefs and sandbars, the fingers of the ocean sprinkling and shimmering to the sky, desperate to reunite with its mother the moon. Upon these gray shores we children scamper and flutter with the tidings of the wind. Pelicans in small groups, together yet eternally alone, share their strong hearts with the beating seas; all-aware of the universe and the passing of the tides. With gray wings the waves are beat up to sculpt the sands of time upon the shallow shores of awareness. Slowly they glide, as terns dip and dive and gulls sail away forever above the world. These noble beasts are lonely travelers on the endless cycle, persisters in the grace, joy, sorrow, and untimeliness of existence. We will watch on as the children flitter, for a time, on this fringe of the cosmos."