If you and I, the One of Us, did not have language describe the apparent you, I would draw pictures of My concept of Myself in the form of you. What would I draw of Myself as the illusion of you? Would I draw you as a rose, a primrose, or a cabbage rose? Or would I draw you, the manifestation of Me, as one petal or one leaf, or one drop of dew?
Would I draw you as an acorn or a 100-year old oak tree in its phases? If oak, would I draw you in autumn and paint you in bright autumn colors or more muted colors or in summer fullness with green leaves sparkling in the Sun?
Would I draw you as a bunny or lamb or as an antelope or giraffe grazing or ambling in a prairie or a forest?
Would it matter what I painted you as?
Would I paint you as the Empire State Building or as a toy car? What difference would it make?
Would it matter if I painted you as the deep blue sea or as your eyes as I see them when I look into the sea of your eyes?
I would not paint you from memory, for I look into your eyes every day anew. I look into your eyes every day, and I see into Infinity and Eternity. I wonder if I could paint all of Infinity and Eternity? Probably I would paint just the entrance of Eternity and Infinity as they reveal themselves in your eyes. To paint all of Vastness, well, there is no paper big enough to paint all of Vastness even as I see into it in the depth of your eyes.
Wherever I turn there is beauty surmounting itself.