The flute of intererior 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?
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine
rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding
around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but
vegetables,
When you really look for me, you will see me
instantly —
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir Says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
-Kabir
