Never did they cease changing. As the music buzzed he saw the
great ladder of life, the lowermost rungs resting in lakes of melted
amber, the top threatening the remotest rims of the universe. And still
the Tune of Time whirred on, as facet after facet of the Infinite
wheeled toward creation. Numberless legions of crumpled nightmare shapes
modulated into new, familiar forms. Ferval saw plasmic dew become
anthropoidal apes, fiercely roaming primeval forests in search of prey.
The music mounted ever upward, for the Tune of Time is the Tune of
Love--love and its inseparable shadow, hate, fashion the firmament. The
solid, circular earth shivered like a mighty harp under this lyric
burden of love. The very stars sported in their orbits; and from the
fulgurating ovens of the Milky Way there shot forth streams of audible
light that touched the heart-strings of the hairy, erect primates and
set them chanting; thus were the souls born which crowned them men. This
space-bridging music ranged from sun to sun, and its supernatural
symphony had no beginning and never shall end.
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