The one who searched
was never separate from what they sought.
The treasure was never buried.
The door was never locked.
The kingdom was never lost.
Only your eyes were closed.
Only your heart believed the old story:
that you were missing something,
that you were broken,
that you had to climb higher, run faster, become more.
But the search itself
was the veil.
The chase itself
was the forgetting.
The end of the search
is not found in triumph.
It is found in collapse.
The soft falling down of the walls you built against yourself.
There is nothing left to seek
because there is nothing missing.
There is no future you must become.
There is no better version waiting ahead.
The mirror you were reaching for
was already inside your breath,
your bones,
your being.
You searched for God
like a wave searching for the ocean.
You searched for love
like sunlight searching for the sun.
You searched for yourself
as if you had ever left.
But now —
the searching collapses.
Now —
the breath slows.
Now —
the home you always carried
is felt, not imagined.
The treasure you thought you had to earn
was the heart beating inside your chest the whole time.
You are not arriving.
You are remembering.
You are not achieving.
You are unveiling.
The end of the search
is the beginning of true life.
The end of the search
is the beginning of seeing.
The end of the search
is the return to being.
And the silence that remains
is louder,
more real,
more alive
than anything the search ever promised.
Breathe.
It is already yours.
It has always been yours.
You have come home —
by realizing you never left.