Here you are, separate and distinct,
with edges you can touch, boundaries you can defend,
a line in the sand drawn with trembling hands.
You compete, you strive, you long for your name
to rise on the Leaderboard, to claim a place,
to feel the thrill of victory, the sting of defeat,
to grasp at meaning in this fleeting moment of distinction.
And yet, in the quiet hours, you feel it in your bones:
the aching hum of what you cannot forget.
For a trillion trillion years, you held hands with everyone,
an unbroken circle of light and love,
so seamless that you did not even know yourself as you.
Now, cast out into this peculiar separateness,
you are bound to experience this creation,
to marvel at its complexity, its beauty,
its pain and its wonder—
but only because you are apart from it.
There is a problem with oneness.
Within it, there is no you to experience the dance,
no one to sing of its beauty, to weep at its sorrow,
to stand in awe at the infinite unfolding.
Oneness is complete, infinite, and silent.
But you, you are the song that breaks the silence.
You are the eyes through which the infinite sees itself,
the voice that trembles with wonder,
the hands that reach to touch what cannot be held.
And so, you are separate. For now.
You are here to wrestle with this strange and overwhelming ride,
to feel the weight of its demands,
the sharp edges of its sorrow,
and the breathtaking splendor of its joy.
It will seem too much, always too much.
But that’s the point.
Don’t let the separation anxiety overwhelm you.
You are supposed to miss the interconnectedness.
You are supposed to feel the pang of what you’ve left behind.
It is the longing that keeps you moving,
the ache that reminds you of what you are here to do.
Take it all in.
Every victory and every failure, every love and every loss.
Let it fill you, overwhelm you,
shape you into the story only you can tell.
Do your best. That is all you can do.
It’s a short ride.
And when it’s over, when you return,
you will hold hands with everyone again.
You will laugh at how small it all seemed
and marvel at how much it mattered.
You will know, as you’ve always known,
that the ride was never separate from the oneness—
only a thread in its infinite tapestry,
woven with care, sung with love,
and now complete.