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.
The origins of music lie far back in time. It arises out of proportion and is rooted in the Great One ... That from which all beings arise and have their origin is the Great One ... When the world is at peace, when all things are at rest, then music can be brought to perfection.