Beloved Beloveds, what shall I do with you? Of course I know what to do with you, and that is to continue the flow of My Love for you and to you, you who are My Beloved and from what can be called simply My High Regard for you. You must know, besides Our differences sometimes, you are My Beloved Pride and Joy.

From the first moment I thought of you, of the external presence of you, I loved you as Myself. This does not begin to describe My Love for you. Well, to say I love you as you love a newborn baby does not begin to say it. Nothing begins to describe the Magnificence of My Love for you as great as it is.

From the first moment I thought of you, you stirred My Heart. From the first moment I created you, I was emblazoned by your Light. We can say that from the very first moment, you stole My Heart. That is not quite correct. It is more correct to say that My Love manifested Itself into a Human Being the world identifies as you. You ARE Myself. How I love Myself. How I love My Creation.

To Me, there is no Dearest, for everyone and everything is dear to Me. No exceptions. I love every leaf. I love every ant. There is no one or no thing that I don’t love. I love every drawing of yours. I love every mist and fog and color. I don’t have to have an object to love, for I am Love Incarnate, and so are you.

If it could be asked and answered as a demonstration, what is the dearest of all to Me, I would say that you are the dearest of all to Me, you who stands before Me as a purported individual as well as the whole collective of you. At the same time, you have to accept that My Love is Infinite. My Love is all. There are no limits to My Love. Yet, as only an illustration, only as a speculation, I would say with all My Heart and with My Face Alight, that it is your heart within Mine that is the dearest of all to Me. I am talking to you. You are the dearest of all. You are My Most Beloved.

In Truth, I love everything in Creation as I love you. I love every beast of the field. I love every trickle of water. I love the mountain tops and the valleys. I love. I am Love, and so are you.

What on Earth holds you back from accepting this? From declaring this to yourself? Would you shuffle off as though you could be less than I say you are? Dear Ones, if you are I, and I say you are, then how can you not know the Love you are made of, and, therefore, the Love you are and, in Truth, the Love you can only be. You cannot be anything less. You cannot escape being the Love you are. Hereto, you have dodged this Truth, that you are Love and nothing but Love. In Truth, you can disguise yourself all you want. Your disguise is a far cry from the Truth.

Meanwhile, you have decided that you are on occasion Love. You have also decided you are, generally speaking, less than Love. You may be disgruntled, fractious, and malcontent to such a degree that you discount yourself and, therefore, others, as if there were in fact others.

You may turn away from others and turn away from Me Who Art Thy Very Self. The so-called others are also your Very Self. You see them as apart from you. You stipulate that it is a matter of course that they are not you or I and that you are not them nor I either, that no one is, and that even I may not exist. What kind of fiction is this?