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The flute of interior time is played
whether we hear it or not,
What we mean by “love“ is its sound coming in.

When love hits the farthest edge of 
excess, it reaches wisdom.
And the fragrance of that knowledge!

It penetrates our thick bodies,
it goes through walls 

Its network of notes has a structure as if a
million suns were arranged inside.

This tune has truth in it.
Where else have you heard a sound like this?

 – Kabir (mystic, 15th c.) 

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