"You ever try to build a castle in the clouds?" asked the sky.

"All the time," replied the ground, a little enviously. "But I always end up with holes in my shoes and sand in my pockets."

"I hear that's how islands are formed," the sky mused, swirling with the colors of a sunset yet unnamed.

"Or maybe horizons," the ground countered, its voice rich with the echoes of ancient roots.

"Absences can be quite constructive, you know," the sky remarked. "Like when the sun forgets to rise, and the stars have a party."

"Sounds like my kind of jam," said the ground, stretching itself wide in a yawn that could cradle galaxies.

"Let's dance then," the sky declared. "But watch your step; you might slip on a comet's tail."

"Just call me the interstellar waltz master," chuckled the ground. "Who knew absence had such rhythm?"