All the colors of the rainbow are within you. The whole range of possibility exists within you. Everything is available to you. There is no note of music that you cannot reach. There is nothing you cannot be. There is nothing that you are not. There is more to you than meets the eye.

And there is music beyond music, and there is color beyond color, and all the music and all the art say the same thing: God is.

You are a statement I made. You are My essay. And you are My word.

You are a note that came from the music of My flute, and yet all notes are contained within you.

I painted you on the universe from a color palette so vast there is no end to the numbers. Infinite is My palette.

My cup runneth over, and so you appeared.

You are the sweet nectar of the gods.

All is contained within you. So I must be contained within you. I, Who cannot be contained, exist within you. But you cannot contain Me, for I have no limit either.

We are written upon the sky, you and I, for all to see. And We are unwritten and unseen.

There is not a molecule of you that does not contain Me uncontained.

You are a stroke of My pen, yet you write yourself.

You are freedom personified. Unlimited are your choices. You have only to choose and to choose again and to choose again and again, and yet you are My chosen.

You are always rewriting yourself, or scribbling, or doodling. You color blank pages. There are no lines for you to fill in. There are no lines.

The horizon is not big enough for you to write on. I give you My sleeve. Our ink is indelible and yet it leaves no mark.

You are not a fallen leaf. You rise up from the ground and grow green on the limb of a tree. The tree is incomplete without you, and yet it is never completed nor unfinished.

I am ever-present. There is no past. There is nothing to remember but Ourself. There is no reunion because there never was a parting.

I never take My eye off you. You are always in My sight and in My heart. You cannot divest yourself of Me.

Consider Me the horse you ride into the sunset. Consider Me the sunset you ride to. Who rides on My back? I ride Myself. You think you are the lone rider. And you think you don't know where you ride to.

But you ride to where We are. You roll over hill and dale and cloud formations. You swing yourself to the farthermost stars while you are still on the ground. You hurtle through the universe. You are a comet. You chase your own tail. You alight everywhere. You are nowhere.

You have no idea of the extent of you. The limits you give credence to are the mirage. You are not the mirage. You are a universe-traveler. You are the breath I inhale and exhale. You are the pulse of the universe. What did you think you were?

You are more than the music of My song. You are the beauty of My music. You are the echo of My thought. I thought you into being. From My being, I created you. I never had to practice. You were born full-blown from the warmth of My breath on a magnificent flute. And I play you still. You are music still issuing from My breath and fingers. I sit in the sun or on the moon, and I play you everywhere instantly. I play you now.