Life is a panorama that flies past your eyes.

What is there to grasp but the meaning? Scenes occur, and then recur in your thoughts, but life is once, at once. Life is a string of gold that you pull. It is a long kiss. You hold hands with life and swing around the May pole.

You release life, and you expand it. The circle grows ever wider. Life spins fast, like the twirling tiger that melted into golden butter. The essence of your life is spun-gold, gold ever spinning, taking momentary form, then returning to its goldenness.

You who are golden light have forgotten that you are. You are light, spun light. Your aura is light, and the pit of your stomach is also light. The light of life is dazzling, yet often you only see it in the corners of darkness.

If light is true, then darkness is not. And you are a seeker of truth. No matter who you are, no matter what you seem like, no matter where you are placed or place yourself, your jaunt through life is a search for the light of truth. Without light, you would not even see image.

Bless the images you see, and know that there is nothing but golden light everywhere. Light refracts itself. It furls and unfurls. It rolls itself out. You who are light walk on light. You are the Sun and its contents of light. The Sun gives light and yet contains it.

Light is lit. And light sounds itself across the universe. There is a stirring in the universe. You are stirring it now. You spin the universe, and you spin yourself in the spinningness.

You are light who walks through light. Your individuality is a passing fancy, for you are enduring light. All your senses patter through light. They sift it and sort it, but life is light supreme, unassorted.

Light can only be light. Your senses dispute that, yes, but your senses also lead you to the light of yourself that ever shines. You walk down the garden path on your return to the garden.

Light disembodies you. Light sees through you. You weigh nothing. You think your light is invisible, but your form is the illusion. You have performed a magic trick upon yourself.

Your body is many-rayed light.

What purpose has light but to shine? Your light is to be seen. Perhaps you have to reveal it. Love is the way you reveal it. Turn your cheek and reveal your light.

You are a light-laden being. You are a being of light. Light is Mine. I am Light, and that means you are too. You are My reflection of light. You are light molded into a semblance. But you are not the semblance. You are the light. You are not clay.

Like the ocean, light moves in waves. So all of life is waves of light. By your life, you wave light. With light, no surface exists. There is no top nor bottom to life. There is no inner nor outer. There is only light.

How can it be then that light is often the last thing seen? This is the mystery of life.

Acknowledge that you are light looking for light. You are so lit you miss seeing the light of yourself. Of course, there is no yourself. There is only light looking into light.

Light is spread out before you. You can only step into it. Light falls upon light. Light alone meets light. There is nothing but light, and you are nothing but light and the sound of its footsteps. I hold you up, the light of the universe, as one would carry a candle. Now I lift you higher so that the light of love may be fully seen.