He was still and gazed deeply into the infinite pool that bears stars into being. Above him was a tiny smudge of light that was the closest galaxy. It was spinning, spinning, but so far away that one could look for a whole lifetime and not see it alter. The galaxies out there whirled into each other like discs, blinding into space without colliding--passing through each other at thousands of miles per second, yet they did not appear to move.
Suddenly he understood: Time is an illusion of the mind. Only love remains.
We thank Thee for all Thy golden silences --
Silence of friendship, telling more than words:
Silence of hearts, close-knitting heart to heart;
Silence of joys too wonderful for words;
Silence of sorrows, when Thou drawest near,
Silence of soul, wherein we come to Thee
And find ourselves in Thine immensity;
For that great Silence where Thou dwell'st alone --
Keeping watch above Thine own,
Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords
Of praise beyond the reach of human words;
In our souls' silence, feeling only Thee
We thank Thee, thank Thee, thank Thee.