When time and space have finished with you, you will be nothing but light. You will be worn away by your own craving, by your own longing, by your own need. You will be bared like the soil when what grows is pulled away. You will be stripped of everything that you have become in order to return to the nothingness of your own essence, the source, the fertility itself that gave rise to everything you were. And so, when there is none of you left, you will be light. Light is that fertility, it is that creative emanation, undifferentiated, unexpressed in particular form. Light is you before you had a name. Light is things before they became plural. It is the water and the weeds, and it is also the plastic and the pollution. Light began this, and underlies it all, shines through it, touching each and every form with exactly the same gentleness, exactly the same love. Light made this of itself, turning water into beings, turning beings into minds so that minds, in their perfected state, might fall away and be nothing but intelligence, and so, merge back with light. And we are all in that very process right now, our minds worn away by all that we hope for, because it is through that longing that we travel this time-space continuum at all. We are propelled along all of our paths by need, and so it is need that creates the chafing and the burning that becomes, eventually, our own vanishing. It is the need that wears us down into nothing. We cannot be deeply, truly satisfied as form, because in the end we all want just to be light again, just to be undifferentiated, pure force, the spark of generation itself, because it is that light which is truly permanent, truly infinite, truly without obfuscation. And because it is already everything, it does not need. We run into things while we are here—tragedy, time, circumstance, disillusionment—and they wear us down like water over stone until eventually we are not pebbles, we are not sand, we are water again. That is what it is like to return to light, because all the things we run up against, all the things that erode us, are themselves light as well, light running into itself, finding itself, merging with itself. We have a long way to go in this continuum of form, much longer than the stone must suffer the water, but it is good to know it is light we always fling ourselves towards, light that birthed us, and light that welcomes us home, and that inside our tension and our disappointment and our need, there is always still that light giving rise to us, giving rise to our becoming. It is good to be this, and it is good to remember.