The White Light

You know that light. The bright one.

You spent lifetimes seeking it.

Yearning for love outside yourself

reaching, grasping, the endless pull

toward other hearts, other eyes,

as if wholeness lived in someone else’s hands.

But the medicine shows you

the great magnetic pull

into the void,

the crushing, gorgeous gravity

of absolute surrender.

You are being unmade.

The ego clings, terrified, small

then breaks like a wave

that realizes it was always ocean.

And oh, the humility of it:

to be nothing,

a speck of dust in infinite light,

and simultaneously

to be everything,

the light itself dreaming

it was ever separate.

The polarity collapses

self and other, lover and beloved,

the push and pull you thought was love

reveals itself as one hand

clapping against itself,

one heart beating

in ten billion chests.

The love you sought

was never out there.

It pours from you,

through you,

as you

an endless fountain

that has no source

because it is the source.

You merge.

You become the light

actual dissolution into luminous being,

every atom singing

the same infinite note.

And you want to hold it,

oh how, you want to stay here,

to maintain this frequency forever,

this pure bliss that isn’t pleasure

but the recognition

of what you always were:

eternal, endless, one.

The tears come

not sadness but its opposite,

a deluge of joy so complete

your body can only weep,

can only shake with the knowing

that you are home,

have always been home,

that separation was the only illusion

and love the only truth.

Time collapses into the eternal now.

Space becomes a single point

containing everything.

You are the light loving itself,

the universe recognizing its own face

in the mirror of consciousness.

This is samadhi. Moksha.

This is the white light.

And even as you return,

even as the boundaries reform

and you remember your name,

your address, your story

something remains:

The knowing that every separation

is temporary,

every search already answered,

every moment of lack

a forgetting of the flood

that lives inside your chest,

waiting to pour forth

as it always has,

as it always will,

endless,

eternal

love,

one,

you