The stars above winked like silent watchers in the night, which was as still as the inside of a womb. They beckoned to those who watched, whispering the promises of an entire universe into the ears of those who would listen, a quiet song of an ever unfolding cosmos. A green light ascended into the night, its glowing yellow tail like a gap in the sky, through which was infinity. The light soared, gleefully reaching up and up, always up, never looking back, drilling through the endless horizons and into the ever-shifting blue. Other lights soon joined it, joyfully swimming through the air, small distant flares signifying the human race which looped and spun, dancing gracefully around the first space craft, heading towards everything.
But down below on the sandy beach of a small island in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by gleaming lapis waves which never stayed still, a young boy dug gleefully in the sand, tiny plastic shovel shifting the million specks and grains to create a simple castle, which in his eyes and mind were by some ancient magic transmuted into the glory of the great halls of Arthur or Richard, where the chivalrous knights dwelt.
So while the rest of his species dove into the dark sea above filled, where the lights in the sky were stars, he dug, and shifted, and created, and imagined, oblivious to the daring men and women racing towards their brethren in the far reaches of the night sky.