"The primary word I–Thou can be spoken only with the whole being. Concentration and fusion into the whole being can never take place through my agency, nor can it ever take place without me. I become through my relation to the Thou; as I become me, I say Thou.
All real living is meeting". Martin Buber
When I fall apart, abandoned, stuck in the crumbling treasures of art, poetry and wisdom, I will beckon the dandelion spheres – the princesses of the moon castle in the valley of the mountain, to display the perfect geometrical shape - to dance and circle space and time in the hermeneutic wind of forever changing meaning - shimmering the hovering symbiosis of us.
It is here where the 'I-Thou' will meet in the ruins of today's sorrow - where we will trace and draw the living frescoes of yesterday, enhaloed in tomorrow. Maybe then, the celebratory mandala of living seeds will unfold and grow in the heart's 'oh mani padme hum's glow - gleaming fearlessly in the eyes of the Mother flower, a star-being in the cosmic show.