Scientists claim that we are made of stardust, nondescript dust mites, but together saying something spectacular and meaningful.

The stars are in motion. We are all part of a singular piece of poetry, rhyme, rhythm, one secular heartbeat. All combining and mixing, tangoing, playing tic-tac-toe with one another. All pieces of
one uni-verse.

Whether we are made of stardust and the rhythms of spheres or of skins stretched across frames to make drums or of quivering flesh and bones, we are all singing.

The ancient Hindu Scriptures of India tell of the generation of the material universe out of the 'full void,' an emptiness of infinite intelligence that makes everything out of silences and sounds, the fundamental energetic vibrations of divine thought.