You call my name.

And you think I don't hear. You think I don't answer, but I answer every time I answer with your name.

Every time I answer with love. You are bliss, filled. But you still think you have a problem. What happens when just for this instant

there is no thought of a problem? Only silence. Only silence.

Only bliss.

What would happen if you remained this way? You fell from this. You fell into this moment. You fell from where there are no

moments, from where there is no time. You fail to recognize your divinity, your true identity, look around.

That doesn't feel like home because it isn't.

You know all of this.

You've been told to seek the kingdom first, to peer within first,

but you still consider out there more important, more real,

more crucial. You haven't given love a chance. The silence doesn't stand a chance with you.

You fill it with distractions, with thoughts of me, books about me, talks about me, but so little of me, drink of me.

Drink of me right now.

You don't eat a menu. I am the real thing. This love is the only solution, but you can't create it.

You can't turn it on and off. You can't cause it. You yield to it. You just open the faucet.

You let down that gate. You drop down into the heart, into the belly,

and you wait, you listen, and I am. I flow. And I break every barrier you put up. I carry you to where you fell from.

I wake you up to where we never left.

Back to your rain.

Your garden.

I love you.

...