God said:
 

From the Ocean you came. You walked out of the Sea. A beautiful sight you were as you strode out of the water and took to land. You did not parachute in. What a brave thing to do to come to . How foretold it was. You took strong steps from the Sea to . Then you were on land. The sun dried you off and warmed you.

You made many discoveries. You discovered . You squeezed your toes in it. You wrote in the with sticks. You dipped yourself into the Ocean, and clung to your feet.

You are a pioneer of life. You trod on untread territory. You learned to dance. You hopped. You skipped. And so your legs lifted you, and your soul came along to guide you and discover you discovering . was a lark.

And then you were pelted with hail stones, and you didn’t understand. Rain you understood, but not hail stones which seemed to drive you into the ground.

You made up sadness and strife as though life on Earth had to do with struggle and so forth. You struggled with yourself untold times. You made a business of strife. You built obstacles in the sand. They were imaginary. They took over your life as though they carried more power than you.

Struggle overwhelmed you. You became a fish out of water. You panted on Earth. You knew this wasn’t the way life on Earth was supposed to be, and yet you thought that this is how it is, and you knuckled down and built sorrow and believed in death. Your soul tagged along, and yet knew better.

You drifted in sand, and you drifted in snow and named progress as your by-word. You didn’t know what you were talking about. Your teeth chattered. You turned your back to the Sun. You toiled.

Your soul kept knocking on your forehead, and yet no one was Home.

You ventured to the edges of cliffs that you had made up, for life on Earth was not made of sharp edges except as you conceived them. There were no cliffs to fall off. You cognized tragedies and sore feet.

Your soul held on tight, wrapped its arms around you, sang to you and whispered My name. You walked anyway as if soul were not, as if personality were supreme. You danced with and tripped yourself. became curls and tresses on your head, and you made up make-up and all sorts of things that you took unto yourself and convinced yourself were true. You substituted false for true and felt satisfied with your knowledge. In ignorance, you acknowledged yourself. You played with your toes. You cavorted. You made up with yourself time and time again after long arguments.

Long arguments turned into the arms of man-made laws, and you signed your name on the dotted line. Bounty hunters arose. They hunted those who ran away. Children played the game of tag. It was symbolic. Children still knew how to have fun. They grew up and forgot.

Romance was manipulated. It became a bargain. Love was sold in vials of perfume and circles of bracelets. Dreams became small and demanded a high price. Business became another name for life, and livings were foraged out of rock.

Now the dawn is replacing the curls of ego on your head. You part your hair. You snip off ego. It falls to shreds at your feet, and love grows in fertile soil. Your soul has come back into its own. You suspect its existence. You look to follow it. You look within, and there it is. And here you are.

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