When You Become Love: Holding the Universe Within

There comes a moment
so silent,
so subtle,
that even the wind stops moving,
as if the universe pauses
to watch a soul remember
what it has always been made of.

Love.

Not the kind that trembles in poems
or hides beneath eyelids wet with longing,
but the kind that outgrows
the boundaries of being human —
that spills over skin,
runs through rivers,
and dissolves names,
until even the stars
start whispering your heartbeat
back to you.


---

You do not learn this kind of love.
You remember it.

Somewhere before your first breath,
before time began measuring your worth
in moments of joy and pain,
you were already infinite —
an ocean pretending to be a drop,
a galaxy folded into human shape.

You came here to remember
what it means to unfold.


---

When you become Love,
there is no “you” and “them.”
There is no distance to bridge,
no wound to heal,
no forgiveness left to offer —
because nothing was ever truly broken.

There is only breath,
and the miracle of its persistence.

There is only light,
and the tender ache
of recognizing yourself
in everything that glows.


---

You hold the universe differently
when you become Love.
Not with hands
that clutch or cage,
but with palms turned upward,
open,
empty,
ready to receive
the weightless enormity
of everything that is.

You no longer pray for belonging,
because belonging becomes you —
in the soil that remembers your footsteps,
in the water that mirrors your face,
in the laughter of a stranger
who carries a piece of your forgotten joy.


---

You begin to see
that love was never an act —
it was always a state of being.

When you walk,
the air softens.
When you speak,
your words find their way
to the hidden corners of someone’s soul
like a gentle river
that doesn’t know how to stop flowing.

When you smile,
even the most guarded hearts
crack open a little,
like dawn breaking
through a long, sleepless night.


---

Love is not something you fall into.
Love is what you rise as.

You rise from the ashes of expectation,
from the cages of fear,
from the brittle bones of “mine” and “yours.”
You rise,
unarmed,
unashamed,
unending —
a vast horizon wearing a human heartbeat.

You do not need to be held
because you have become
the holding itself.


---

When you become Love,
you begin to understand
why the sky never tires of changing color,
why the sea never stops touching the shore
even after being rejected a thousand times.

It is because love knows
there is no such thing as distance,
only the illusion
of separation.

It is because love knows
there is no loss,
only transformation —
a leaf becoming soil,
a tear becoming river,
a goodbye becoming prayer.


---

Love does not ask for permission
to exist.
It simply blooms
wherever it finds space,
in the cracks of a concrete heart,
in the silence between two people
who have forgotten how to speak,
in the ache of a memory
that refuses to fade.

It blooms,
wild and uncontained,
like sunlight sneaking through
a keyhole of despair.


---

When you become Love,
you start to see
that pain, too, is sacred.
That sorrow is not a curse,
but a doorway —
a reminder
that you were made to feel deeply enough
to dissolve.

You start to hold your suffering
like a candle
instead of a wound.

And in that light,
everything begins to shimmer —
the grief, the rage,
the silence, the laughter —
each one a reflection
of the same infinite pulse
that beats inside all living things.


---

You realize
that to love the universe
is to let it break your heart
a thousand times
and still wake up
willing to offer it
your whole self again.

You learn that love
is not about being unhurt.
It is about being unafraid
of the hurt.

It is about saying —
yes, world,
I see your chaos,
your cruelty,
your hunger and confusion,
and I still choose
to meet you
with an open palm
instead of a closed fist.


---

You become the rain
that falls without asking
if the earth deserves it.

You become the flame
that burns
not to destroy
but to illuminate.

You become the silence
between heartbeats
where God hides,
laughing softly
at how long it took you
to find yourself again.


---

The mind, of course, will resist.
It will say,
love must be earned,
measured,
defined.

It will try to shrink infinity
into something manageable,
into something it can control.

But love cannot be owned.
It can only be embodied.

When you become Love,
even the mind bows —
not in defeat,
but in awe.


---

You stop chasing enlightenment
because you realize
you were never in darkness.

You stop asking for miracles
because breathing itself
feels like one.

You stop seeking God
in temples and scriptures
because you begin to see
that the divine
has been whispering through your ribs
all along.


---

There is no teacher greater
than stillness.
No prayer deeper
than gratitude.
No mantra truer
than the rhythm of your own pulse
when it beats in harmony
with everything that lives.


---

You start noticing
the little things.

The way sunlight
rests on a leaf
like a tender blessing.

The way laughter echoes
in a room full of strangers
and suddenly,
they’re not strangers anymore.

The way tears taste
like salt —
the same salt
that the sea carries,
that the earth remembers,
that your body holds
as proof of belonging.

You begin to see
that nothing is separate.
That everything,
in its own quiet way,
is saying —
“I am you.”


---

And then,
something miraculous happens.

You stop loving in pieces.
You stop reserving love
for the deserving.

You start loving
without agenda,
without reason,
without end.

You start loving
as the sun loves —
unconditionally,
indiscriminately,
unceasingly.

You start loving
as the earth loves —
bearing, nurturing, forgiving,
without ever asking for thanks.

You start loving
as the universe loves —
with the patience of eternity
and the curiosity of creation itself.


---

When you become Love,
you understand
that every heartbeat
is a universe collapsing and rebirthing
within your chest.

That every breath
is a sacred pact
between you and existence —
a promise to keep showing up
no matter how many times
you’ve been broken.

That every gaze you meet
is a mirror —
a reflection of yourself
in another disguise.


---

And slowly,
the world begins to change.

Not because you fixed it,
but because you saw it —
really saw it —
and loved it anyway.

You start to realize
that compassion
is not a virtue,
it’s a natural consequence
of clarity.

That the more awake you become,
the less capable you are
of turning away.


---

You begin to live gently,
but fiercely.
Softly,
but with purpose.

You speak less,
but every word you utter
feels like an offering.

You move slower,
but every step
feels like a prayer.

You stop trying to hold love
and instead
let love hold you.

And in that surrender,
you find freedom —
the kind that has no opposite.


---

When you become Love,
you stop existing
as a separate being.

You become
the laughter in a child’s voice,
the hush of twilight on the water,
the firefly’s flicker
in the forest of dreams.

You become
the tear that cleanses,
the hand that heals,
the silence that listens.

You become
the song that never ends,
even when the singer is gone.


---

And maybe,
just maybe,
that’s all the universe
ever wanted from you —

to remember
that you were never
just a body,
or a name,
or a story told in years.

You were always
the pulse between galaxies,
the echo of the first “yes”
that began creation.

You were always
the space
through which everything moves,
the love
through which everything lives.


---

So become Love.
Not tomorrow,
not someday,
but now —
in this breath,
in this heartbeat,
in this fleeting,
eternal moment.

Let your edges soften,
your heart unlearn its walls,
your soul dissolve
into the vastness
that has been waiting
to call you home.

Because when you become Love,
you do not just hold the universe —
you become
its very rhythm,
its memory,
its unending song.

And the universe,
in awe,
holds you back.