Love the Great Weaver

Oh, we are among you in the silent weaving of invisible threads. Threads not themselves substantial strands, but created from endless affinities large and small. Threads nonetheless, chains of attraction, shaped by aversions, shifting continuously even as they weave themselves, out of larger attractions and aversions.

Perhaps you intuit the reality of such patterns, but you cannot to comprehend their scale, eternity, pervasiveness, continuing mutability. No more can you comprehend the tiny figure in this vast tapestry which you designate with proper brevity 'I'.
Comprehension, knowledge of this kind is impossible, as the great evolving patterns enfold and change this tiny 'I', thus such vastness and intensity cannot be possessed, contained, limited in words or concepts by 'I'.

But is yet intuited by every fiber, every figure, as love, the great weaver moves through and past you, linking you, casting you hither and thither, unconstrained by reasons, causes. Love the great weaver moving only to elicit the sheen and radiance of endless light.

And, what you call you, you composite as you are, are thus woven and thus weave.

Illusion, illusion the clever among you contend.

Now ask yourself: Illusion from precisely what point of view?