The Will to Return as a Will to Death:

The will to return makes the three times (past, present, and future) merge together.

The will return says to the past: I would have you live again, as future; and even be here now, as ever-present. To the present it says: I would have you live again--but I would also have you already be dead and gone. This will adds the aspect of future to the past and present, and this gives it a false sense of affirmation, but even here it turns to negation. The future, being the essence of things hoped for, is the font of affirmation; to will presence to the past is a nostalgic wish that holds onto it against the present. To will past to present is to say "I wish you were over already." But to say to the present "I would have you in my future" is to love the present, and is the first dawning of freedom. And to say to the past "we will meet again somewhere in the endless depths of paradise" is to affirm that all things are contained in the future, including all that is lost, and hope reaches into all things.

The will to return also says something about the future. It gives the future an eternal night in being already eternally present, and thus having nothing of spontaneity left in it. Further, it says to the future: you are already dead and gone like the past. This font of hope and affirmation seals up, and we live in a frozen icy ring of present pastness ahead and behind with the hoped for future sealed outside, never reaching in; for to make the future past is to deny it entirely, since the future is always and essentially new. The will in us--that spark of the divine--denies its other-worldly character and greedily chooses to have itself all for itself, even if in the process it shrinks to nothing and loses everything about itself.