There is something I must tell you.
Several days ago, after your disruptive visit, I sat looking out over the ocean.
I finally attained enough peace within my own heart to touch the force once more. What I found shocked me.
As usual the force rose around me. I was centered in a sea of blazing light, but as always, I could feel its conflict with the darkness at the periphery of my perception. As ever, the conflict at this boundary, though distant and muted, clashed like two great seas that meet and cannot mingle. The majestic terror of their conflict has always inspired within me a deep awe and awesome horror, and all whose spirit travels close to this point of change experience this raging majesty within their souls.
And yet, while this majestic conflict tickled the edges of my perception and while the overwhelming brightness of the light suppressed my spirit with its calm, I felt a shift deep within the balance of the force itself.
Suddenly, around me rose an embrace of the darkness. The conflict on my periphery ceased in one giant swell. The two fighting seas became two rivers flowing on either side of my soul, never mixing, yet entwined in what can only be described as a cosmic dance.
I can only assume that this balancing is the result of your confrontation with Ben.
However it came about, this balance is glorious, and I drifted in its current indefinitely. Whether I was there for a moment or for an eternity does not seem to me to matter; I was beyond time, adrift in the eternal present.
Yet while I drifted there indefinitely, I did notice a small disturbance on this torrent of joining. It was as if a pebble did drop, so quiet and unassuming was the change. Or maybe it was more like the snake that slithers off the branch and into the stream with barely a ripple. Or maybe it was like the infinitesimal exposure of a gnarly root that jams and swerves the course of the stream wherever it is exposed along the bank.
Which of these it is, I cannot say for certain, for it was if the disturbance was all of these at once, and yet as none of these, for it was as if it happened and yet did not happen at all.
I know not of what I warn you but beware this imbalance within the new unity you have forged. As you well know, one misaligned screw can ruin a good flux capacitor.
Rey sat, contemplating the import of Luke's message. She knew the balancing in the force occurred when she and Ben had decided to put aside old differences and join Sith and Jedi into something more. The moment of imbalance, however, puzzled her, for she could place no event of which she knew to its genesis.
Opening herself to the Force to see if she could identify this new imbalance, she became aware of the change that had come to the Force. It was as Luke had spoken. The placid sea of light with its ever-conflicting boundary was no more. Inside of her rushed the new calm torrent of balance in an ever-flowing, ever-renewing current. She sought for her connection to Luke, hoping she could impress upon it the assurance that his message had been received.
The connection, when she found it, had been changed. No longer was it the sharp and vibrant chord that connected one living being to another. Instead, it had become a part of the connection that fused her soul to the Force at large. Grief and joy in equal measures consumed her, as she realized that Luke must have found his last peace in the embrace of the all-encompassing Force. This message must have been his last farewell.
Rey lost herself in her joyous grief for an indefinite period. The Force raged and quieted about her, inflaming her grief and lancing her sorrow in its ebb and flow.
When she finally recollected herself, she found her emotions fragile, but manageable. She would have the composure to convey to Kylo that his uncle, so loved and so hated, had finally become one with the Force.