We each laid, side by side, touching not just each other but ourselves and the tools in our hands as well It was in this connection, this touch to me, to you, to the preciousness each of us held in our hands, precious because they beget completion of our whole, the reason we were here, not just in this moment, together in this photograph but in this world, on this earth, now, it was in this connection that my heart swelled to burst with a sense of what you hear enlightened yogis and great mystics speak That sense that is beyond words and can not quite be captured, even flees like the deer upon hearing the snap of a twig, when attempt at giving it form are made It is these-fleeting and ephemeral, light and so bright-moments, that makes the world alive and each of us alive, truly alive, for one more moment-real It is in this touching, one to another, hand to tool, me to myself, that I realize I am here And I am meant to be