A late summer sandcastle. A cup of tea with a friend. A painting of a tropical shore. The violin sound of extinguished birthday candles. The power of words, of the natural world, of dreams, of Death Itself, or at least Charon, his boatman. To a select few is given the ability to see the universe in a grain of sand. Even fewer have the ability to convey their experience in such a way as to evoke it in others.