The flute of the Infinite is played without ceasing, and its sound is love: when love renounces all limits, it reaches truth. How widely the FRAGRANCE spreads! It has no end, nothing stands in its way. The form of this MELODY is bright like a million suns: incomparably sounds the vina, the vina of the notes of truth.
Where to next: the FRAGRANCE or the MELODY?
[Source: RT 50; 1.126. muralî bajat akhand sadâye]
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