You, My Children, to Me, are like a field of buttercups! Your faces bob up to the sun. You dance in the breeze. You swing and sway.
Or, you are like a chorus of baby birds opening up their mouths, ready to receive their food and swallow it down the hatch.
You are something beautiful that has come into My life -- waved by My hand, rushing to Me by your own motion and, even so, you are propelled along by a Silence that lies in wait for you and takes you in its grasp.
You look to Me for the fulfillment of your life, and, yet, beloveds, you are Mine. You are My fulfillment. I am your Reason for Being, and you are Mine, and this is how We are One and not actually two. We are One in Spirit, and We are One in purpose. We are One any way you slice it. My beloveds, We are Oneness once and for all.
One is the greatest number there is. Everyone can count to One. It is like We enter Oneness even as We always have fit in Oneness and nowhere else. Of course, it so happens that you live in many directions all at once. Even so, nothing changes the Reality of Our Oneness. Face it, We are a singleton.
And what a singleton! What a Vastness packaged in Oneness We are. We are the Essence of Oneness, you understand. There is no multiplying Oneness or dividing it or splitting it or patching it. Oneness is, and Oneness does. Oneness is like flowing water. There is no separation between Us. None. None at all. But, ah, ah, there is illusion. Our Oneness is muddied with illusion. Oneness is Oneness, yet illusion has crept up to overtake your awareness of Our Oneness.
Fantasy holds Our Oneness between its two hands. We become waverings and flowings in a mirror, and We take for fact what We see. I am the True Realist, however. I tell you, My image, that which what is so, sees a million distractions calling to you. You may resist what you see, rebut what you see, seethe at it perhaps, yet you will even knock Truth down, seemingly preferring illusion to Truth.
You weave a web, and you became accustomed to being bound by the web you weave. You pull the wool over your own eyes. You like to look at Oneness seemingly multiplied, and, truly, you get beside yourself in the myriad of illusion you fall into.
Illusion becomes like a powerful hobby of yours. You become very serious about it. It encompasses your whole life. It is an addiction. You are so familiar with it. It is engrained within you. You respond to life automatically in the same way you give your name. Your name is another illusion. It is another hide-go-seek you play. You play in the periphery a lot.
Even so, everywhere you go, and everyone you see, you are seeing yourself. You forget whom you are seeing. You forget whom you are looking for. You are looking for yourself. You are everywhere, and you see others. You don’t see yourself. You look for yourself somewhere else. You have become a master of self-deception. You take a roundabout route to the Reality of you.
The Reality of you is I, and that is the Truth. You seem to have illusion and Realty mixed up. You say you want to know Reality yet you pin up a fictional poster.
Look, I am seeking you, and you dart away, as though you are too timid to be found. It is I, yourself, seeking all that you are.