A search for wisdom.
"Fireflies cascaded toward and away from the dotting womb beyond the atmosphere. Two children tucked themselves into grass weaponries as a lighthouse circled monotonously over sparkling water. The children sat on a hill, gazing out upon those diamonds sloshing and struggling to reach suspending diamond cousins. And the lighthouse highlighted horizons and treasures again. Sea salt hung in the air and nibbled at the two children, who were letting their eyes rise and fall with ocean’s flow.
A boy and a girl, son and daughter of the earth upon which they ran and sat and played together and swore secrets as gold of fireflies and whispered that they loved each other. A boy and a girl—yes yes yes, their families said they would get married, and though at the time of speaking It the members present were in jest (though from Grandmother’s eyes there was more wisdom behind the joke than all religious books of their time and ours), the fact that the two have been best friends for the entirety of their fifteen years of existence had an air of seriousness about it. Who knew if the two considered marital possibility or not? They were content with sitting next to each other, letting the cool ocean maze run through them and intertwine its veins into theirs."
(Can anyone say wordiness? Blarg ...)