The great cosmic joke is this:
You were never broken.
You were never separate.
You were never unworthy.
You spent lifetimes trying to become
what you already are.
You searched every corner of the world —
built temples, wrote scriptures, climbed mountains,
burned yourself alive on altars of becoming —
just to end up exactly where you started:
home, inside yourself.
The joke isn’t cruel.
It’s beautiful.
It’s the kind of joke that makes you laugh
and cry
and kneel to the ground in the same breath.
You were playing hide-and-seek with God.
You were hiding inside your own chest,
and calling it a quest.
You imagined yourself fallen.
You imagined yourself cast out.
You imagined a distance so vast, so impossible,
that you forgot it was just that — imagination.
The joke is that you were never less than whole.
You just wore costumes of forgetting.
You just played the part of the lost one,
the seeker,
the wanderer.
And when the punchline hits you —
it’s not a shout.
It’s not a slap.
It’s a soft, unstoppable wave of remembering
that melts the whole stage beneath your feet.
There’s nothing to become.
There’s no ladder to climb.
There’s no master key hidden in some secret place.
You are it.
You always were.
The seeker and the sought are the same breath.
The longing and the fulfillment are the same river.
You didn’t need to be saved.
You needed to remember.
The doors were never locked.
The gates were never closed.
The kingdom was never lost.
It was singing in your bloodstream the whole time.
And now —
you hear it again.
Welcome back, beloved.
The laughter of God is still echoing through your bones.
It was always yours.
It was always you.