I am not hope. I am Truth. I am far more than hope. I am Love, and you are Love, and love meets in a non-space of Oneness. How happy I am to have met you. I met you first in My dream, and then My dream esplanaded into Truth, and so We stand, you the illustrated Truth of Me. How vast is Our relationship. How vast is Our love that it is the very vapor We exist in, or seem to exist in, yet the fact is: We exist.

It seems quite natural to speak of We, does it not? It is much more natural to say We rather than you and I, or I and you, or anything else at all, until a time in non-time appears where the word I alone says it all, and no counterbalance is needed, or thought to be needed. I am I, and there is no you, and, yet, for as long as it suits you, I shall speak of Myself as We, so you will know that you are included in Me.

It is a wonderful thing to be We, to be embraced in such love that there is pure existence, pure Beingness, just being, just hanging around out of the myth of time, hanging around not even on a corner because there is no space for corners to be in. It cannot even be said that We are floating in the ether together because there is nothing to float in. Only, it can be said that We float in words, and yet words are a temporary convenience. Words will not be needed. We shall be merged in love and, therefore, Oneness. There will not be any direction for Our love to go to because Our love will be complete unto itself.

Love will circle itself, and yet no circle will be marked. No edges, no borders, no boundaries, only the boundlessness of love, the essence of love, love original, love without trappings, love and nothing else but love, nothing to contrast it to, nothing to make of it, nothing to interpret or to draw a picture of, just love, pure love in a state of Being that can only be called love, and yet will have no name, for with Oneness, there is no need of discernment.

Love alone will be. Love will suffice. Love will fill although there will be no need of filling. Fullness is already full. Nothing is missing from love. Love fills. All will be love, and love will know itself without observation, without thought, without appraisal, without description, without drawings. Love will be, and there will be nothing else to be.

This is the state of affairs right now, only your vision is temporarily blocked. You have been blind-sided by the relative world. It speaks to you in a loud voice, in many voices, and it tells you many stories which you believe in deeply. You believe that life in the world is life all-consuming, and you play your part to the hilt.

In order to play your part, you have to believe in it, so you believe in it, not for all you are worth, but for less than you are worth. You block out the Unwritten and focus on the story playing out before your eyes. You play in a scenario, and you think everything is at stake when your foundation is so great, nothing can rattle it. You play you are rattled. You play Make-Believe, and you make yourself believe it. You are a believer of another kind, and, yet, over the horizon, in a distant maze, you are beginning to wonder where I am taking you.