Could the idea of constant separation reveal that nothing was ever separate?

I notice how quickly I decide what is possible. I judge change and declare doors closed. Who gives me the authority on permanence?

Nothing is lost; it is misplaced. No one is ever cut off, merely momentarily convinced of it.

But emotions won’t grow.

What if great hopelessness is actually hope? What if believing in permanent separation proves nothing can be permanently separate?

Is anything ever lost or cut off? Yet what gets cut off, and who cuts? I hear there’s no way back, no hope, no change. When did hope become limited?

Even in darkness, I know darkness exists. In forgetting, I feel something knows it has forgotten.

What makes a door unopenable? What makes a path unwalkable? I think my belief in impossibility creates factual impossibility.

If everything shares this essence, how can anything be forever separate? I hear some are so lost that they’ve lost the possibility of being found. Isn’t that another form of finding? What if something that can’t be lost lies at the bottom of loss?

My last name is control…

When I say someone could never change, I describe change. When I claim someone is cut off, I forge a connection.

Maybe those who appear furthest are closest; they edge curves back to the start. Could resounding rejection be another embrace?

What if separation is an illusion? Even feeling cut off is another expression of what can never be cut off.

Everyone might observe if they are who they need to be. The belief in impossible change might signal change itself. Everyone might exist in steps of remembering what was never forgotten. They appear farther and closer, yet all express the same undeniable connection.

You are always welcome.