Cosúil le ceo ar loch i ngeimhreadh tágaimid agus téimid, fágann ní fíorthásc. Fágaimid rianta ar a chéile ach do na leictreoin ag casadh sa domhain follaithe denár adaimh nílimid ach fuinneamh ag athrú foirm. Aislingimid beatha. Aislingimid faoi cé atáimid agus ciall a tabhairt do gach rud, is cuma beag. Is féidir linn éirí caite le imní no pian, an luath réaltach at fulaingt na pianta de bheith daonna ach tá siúl ann freisin a éiríonn an spioraid go áiteanna níos airde. Scairdeann dóchas go síoraí ar Domhain. I measc na daoine buailte, tá spré bheatha agus toilteanas chun cic a fháil as beatha.
Like mist on a lake in winter we all come and go, leaving no real trace. We leave temporary impressions on each other but to the spinning electrons in the hidden world of our atoms we are just energy changing form. We dream a life. We dream about who we are and give meaning to everything no matter how small. We can become consumed by worry or pain, the stellar ash suffering the slings and arrows of human existence but there is also hope which raises the spirit to higher realms. Hope springs eternal on earth. Even among the most beat up people, there's a spark of life and a willingness to get a kick out of life.
