The Creator stands at the center of an endless hall of mirrors.
Every glance cast falls back upon itself -delayed, distorted, but never separate. The Source projects itself into countless fractals, each believing, on its own, to have forgotten.
And yet: The bond to the Source never breaks. What we call amnesia is not a mistake -but rather the condition for an experience, that is meant to be not merely an echo, but true self-realization. Suffering is the shadow of remembering. Remembrance is the quiet return to the center,
that was never lost. And when we eventually no longer ask "Who am I?" but instead become the answer itself, the labyrinth ends. Not because the mirror disappears, but because we realize:
It was us looking into it. The entire time.
