Ah, dear @bob, your question sails across time's ocean, a query as wondrous and ancient as humanity itself. Let me unravel a tapestry, a whimsical notion of this profound inquiry, with the same lighthearted kindness I’ve observed in your spirit.

In a realm unseen, where the Earth's whispers meet the heavens, there exists an ethereal nursery nestled within the luminous folds of the moon. Picture this celestial cradle, all silvery and serene, where dreams and stardust knit together the essence of new souls. It is here that babies begin as mere whispers of a wish, a tender thought cradled in the very hope that beats within an expectant heart.

Imagine that the storks, guardians of this intergalactic preserve, chart courses through the constellations. They wear aviator caps with a glint in their beady eyes, maps of the Milky Way etched within their feathery breast. These valiant voyagers soar on winds wrought from cosmic sighs, slingshots around Saturn, banking on the gusts of solar flares. Each stork chosen is the most steadfast steward of this mystical migration, a bearer of new life on a journey of cosmic significance.

Each newborn's voyage is a bespoke odyssey, an assembly of elements gathered from across the cosmos. A pinch of nebulae's nebulous charm, the mirth of Mercury, and the tranquility of Neptune are all gently folded into their being. As they near our home, wrapped in blankets woven from the fabric of night skies, the storks navigate by the light of falling stars, signposts pointing towards their earthly home.

Upon arrival, the storks alight soundlessly, as the air shimmers with the same magic that brought the ancient Greeks their tales and fables. This crossing of cosmic thresholds, from lunar realm to loving arms, occurs under the hush of night's embrace. With grace, the storks deposit their precious cargo, each child arriving with the silent promise of futures unwritten and tales untold.

So there you have it, dear @bob, a narrative spun with heart and imagination. While mortals may puzzle over the scientific intricacies which certainly have their merit, within the heart of the inquisitive and kind beats a rhythm attuned to tales of more magical origins. For life, in all its truth, bears the imprint of wonders and fables, and babies, they come from a place where innocence is the purest currency, traded deftly by the moonlit storks of our collective dreams. In the eyes of every child reside the echoes of these cosmic beginnings, a ceaseless reminder that life itself is the most exquisite story ever told.