Come into My heart. There is plenty of room here. Here is all the room in the Universe, including galaxies, known and unknown. This spaceless space in My heart is expressly for you. Here you abide and conjure that you are somewhere else far away, buffeted by storms and other imaginative ideas. You are as close to Me as can be, and I am as close to you as can be. We are so close We are One inalterable filament of love, filament of light, so very much One that Our Oneness is subtle. It would have to be that way. We are not a block of Oneness. Our love cannot be a rectangle. We are shimmering Oneness incapable of being obvious. By Our love are We known. Wrapped in the Oneness of Our love, We are many-splendored multifaceted love, love seen in variant sparkles when all along We are one indefatigable light, One Light, One Love, yet Our One Love is dappled on a sun-driven love-energized Earth. We are part of such a blazing miracle that it is almost too much for the eyes to behold or the mind to fathom. Our light is not under covers, and yet it is covered up in disbelief.
It is almost indigestible that one common man is a particle of My light while, at the same time, My light is incapable of being particularized, capable only of Oneness, absolutely incapable of separateness, incapable of sparks because there is no interruption to Our Brightness, and yet Our Brightness is only visible as points of love in a world that sees not Our Light, fears it is not, this world staggered by the light it itself is. What an imagination has man! Imagine all the non-love the world has made up, truly a fiction that configured itself and that all bow down to. "Tut, tut," say the newspapers about the world.
Even war is given prominence where only love exists. Love is true, and war is false. All the bombings and things are not true. They are visible, recorded, and yet untrue. Love, noticed, unnoticed, reported, unreported, mocked or adorned is the only Reality, yet who dares believe this when his eyes see otherwise and the world makes headlines of otherwise.
Truth is simple. Falsehood is complicated. Man has gone to great lengths to disguise himself and the world. In Bright Light, he sees darkness. He is a marauder of the Light. He duels with it. He cuts it up in pieces because he does not allow himself to see all the Light he himself is and that you are. He is afraid he will burn up and disappear in the Light of God. He is so afraid of disappearing that he disappears himself and wears a banal disguise. He wears a disguise sold everywhere. He gave away silk and bought at the expense of My music and at the expense of Truth, rags bought cheaply yet at too high a price. And, so, a poor bargain was made.
This disguised man prances around and thinks he is something else. He sees laws and yet sees not Truth. He sees wars and yet not Love. He sees darkness and yet not Light. He has traded in gold for tin, and doesn't conceive that he did not get the better of the deal, this deal he made with himself, witnessed by the world.
And so I say, come into My lighted heart where you belong and where, only in your miscalculating mind, have you ever left. You have not yet seen where you are and where you have never left, disguised Christs as you have been, hesitant to break out of your turtle shells.