End of the promise

Spirituality, at its core, promises something.

A way out.
A resolution.
A kind of eternity.

Whether it’s Christianity’s heaven, Buddhism’s liberation, or Advaita’s pure awareness—
it’s all a variation of the same hope:
You will finally arrive.
You will be whole.
You will be safe, untouched, free.

Even the paths that say “there’s nothing to attain” often whisper,
“just see it clearly, and you’ll be free.”

The structure is always the same:
A lack now.
A solution later.
A seeker here.
An arrival elsewhere.

But what if none of it is true?

What if there is no goal?
No destination?
No secret?
No one to find it?

What if spirituality is just another mirage in the desert of becoming?

Hope collapses.
Seeking dissolves.
And with it, the idea that anything is missing.

Not into despair.
Not into enlightenment.
Just into this—
the undramatic, ordinary, ungraspable appearance, happening to no one.

Nothing promised.
Nothing withheld.
No final truth.
No final fall.

Just what already is—without need, without meaning, without escape.