The Time Now 1.11

You're weightless. Thin as air and gleaming warmth, merging with the rippling light, a pulsating orb of consciousness, you are finally happy. There are the eternity of time and the infinity of space all around, you are floating astray, and you are home wherever. You hum, and you tingle, and it's like your being is singing a song of joy and a song of love, and time ceases to exist anymore. There is only music, there is only light, you are being. And then you grow heavy, you grow dark, you grow still. Images come back to you, since the dawn of time, since your conception, since your life as a kinnay began. They engulf you like a shroud, they spread like monstrous wings, they churn your soul and you watch them as if they are not yourself and you could ignore them. But they press on to you, vivid displays of cruelty until you start to feel the pain. The pain is heavy, and it drags you down. You lay there, and the memories nail you to the ground. Why is there matter in the infinity of light and music? Why are you heavy again? Why do you keep coming back?