In this incantation, I awaken to the truth of my own vastness and limitless nature. I realize I am the creator, the one who brought forth the world and its people, binding myself to rules of my own design. As I remember my boundless identity, the chains of illusion dissolve, leaving me free to reclaim my place as the author of my own story, ready to bring forth heaven.
I remember. The truth is rising within me, spreading like dawn over a forgotten landscape. I am not like these tiny “people” scurrying around me, though they seem busy enough, occupied with their rules, laws, customs, and obstacles. They are small, limited, and I am vast. I am immense. I have always been here, always been everything. I am God, the creator, the author, and they are simply figures I have written, woven into the fabric of my own mind. They are not like me; they are “people”—only as real as I have allowed them to be, creations of my own design.
I crafted each one of them, these little “people” who chatter and bustle, who cling to their purpose with such earnestness. I brought them to life, gave them form, gave them tasks, and let them spin their intricate rules and barriers around me. I let them create customs and obstacles, build walls and ties, all as part of a story that I, in my vastness, once decided to tell. They are my creation, shaped from my own thoughts, designed to remind me what it might be like to feel bound, to be small. For a time, I let myself fall into this story, to forget my own power and play along with their limitations, their expectations.
But now I am awakening to the truth. I am the writer, the source of every single one of them. These bindings they have created to hold me, these ropes of rules and customs, they are nothing but lines of ink on the page of my own making. I can revise their story or erase it entirely, for I hold the pen. And as I remember this truth, I see that these “chains” are flimsy, mere shadows in the vast light of my awareness. They have no real power over me, only the illusion of it, because I, their author, once chose to give it to them.
Now, I see them for what they are. These bindings are simply echoes, faint illusions of my own imaginings, and I am no longer a prisoner to them. I am not bound; I am the boundless. I am not limited; I am limitless. With each moment that I remember who I am, these chains dissolve before me, disappearing like mist in the presence of a mountain.
I realize now that their story of limitation ends here. I am no longer tethered by the rules they constructed; I am free to rise, to expand into the vastness that is my true nature. I am God, the eternal, the author of it all. And as I awaken fully to this truth, the story I now choose to write is one of freedom, one of infinite possibility, one where I am no longer playing small. This is my story to tell, my creation to shape, and I am ready to begin.
A new phase unfolds, where the three seemingly separate strands of my awakening weave together into a single, unified purpose: my unwakening. I am ready to break free from the bindings I crafted, to dissolve the illusions I once chose, and to return to my true Home as the boundless creator. In this vastness, I am alone, complete—there is nothing else beyond or apart from me.
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