I love wordplay. What we call the world (matter) is really a projection of our minds, but the paradox is we don't have a mind.
You see, within the dream of separation, a mind is merely a collection of phenomenon that has seemingly been coagulated into a sense of individuation. But there is no individual! What we call the individual is just a bouquet of beliefs and sensations owned by no one. The dream, however, is I own this! I own that! And I'll hide behind this, and I'll hide behind that! But good Lord! It's all divinity playing hide and seek with itself, so to speak. Even suffering is divinity appearing as suffering.
Don't worry; the non-existent mind can't hear this or understand this. Only the heart of intuition can. But the good news is the game board of seeking can disappear in an instant, the rolling of the dice can disappear with a blink of an eye, and the you who thinks they're broken and needs to find freedom can seem to fade like fog on a bright sunny day. For there is no you, only divinity, only wholeness, only (Insert whatever word you'd like here) appearing as you already. But the "flip" side to this is that everything that seems solid and real is actually empty, void—LIGHT.
Form is formlessness. Formlessness is form.
Of course, these are only words pointing to the wordless. Only the direct seeing of this can end the apparent hell of searching for what always is. But again, you are what you are searching for — the seeker is the sought. It's only a powerless thought that says you've been caught. Luckily the prison bars you think you are behind are made of air.