In a prayerful invocation, the seeker stands apart from heaven and earth, wishing the paths to open in every direction, and entreats the divine to drive away all sin, wasting disease, and the shortening of life. Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine artisan, joins the daughter to her husband, setting forth the cycle by which all the world proceeds. Again, the plea resounds: drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. Agni, the sacred fire, binds the breaths together, while the moon is joined with the breath, sustaining life’s rhythm. The gods, through breath, set in motion the all-pervading energy of the sun, and the prayer continues: drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. Among those who have life and those who give life, breath is the sustaining force—live, do not die; drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. Among the living, remain here in breath, do not die; drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. With the sap of the plants, with the promise of long and full life, the invocation persists: drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. May we stand beneath the rain of Parjanya, the rain-god, immortal—again, the prayer: drive away all sin, wasting disease, and shortened life. The narrative turns to the origin of all: Brahman was born first, in the beginning, before all things. From him, the shining one, the radiant hymn spread forth, and his deep foundations became the models of this world, the womb of both being and non-being. This ancestral domain was established for the first-born in the worlds, and so, the shining, inviting, and glorious heat is spread for the first to bear. The wise one, born of Brahman, distinguishes all the births of the gods. Brahman raised up Brahman from the midst, from below and above, standing firm by his own law. He knows, he stands by the truth of the earth. The great one made firm the vast earth and sky; being born, he made firm the sky, the earthly realm, and the space between. From the deep foundation of birth, Bṛhaspati, lord of the gods, is sovereign; he produced the shining light of day, and let the inspired ones dwell in radiance. His poetic power strikes the great abode of the ancient god; born together with many, the former halves were divided. He who approaches Atharvan, the father, the divine kinsman, and Bṛhaspati with reverence, finds the creator of all as he is—the wise god, never to be harmed, self-sustaining. The question arises: to which god shall we offer our oblation? To the one who gives self and strength, whose command all worship, whose guidance the gods follow, who rules over all beings. To the one who alone, living and blinking, became the great king of the world; whose shadow is immortality, whose shadow is death. To the one whom the two crying ones, trembling, called from below, whom heaven and earth invoked in fear; whose path is the shining way of space. To the one whose vast heaven and earth, whose broad atmosphere, whose greatness the sun spreads out. To the one whose greatness the Himalayas and oceans declare, whose arms are the directions. To the waters, primeval, bearing all as a womb, immortal, knowing the truth; in whom the divine one was established among the goddesses. To the golden embryo that arose at the beginning, the sole lord born of beings, who upheld the earth and the heavens. To the waters, at first, bearing the calf, the embryo, united together; for him, as he was being born, there was a golden covering. Three rose up: the tiger, the man, and the wolf; swiftly the rivers flow, swiftly the god of the forest, swiftly let the enemies depart. Let the wolf go by the distant path, let the thief take the highest way; let the rope given go far, let the evil-doer depart far away. The tiger’s eyes and mouth are subdued, as are all his twenty claws. First the tiger is subdued, then the thief, then the serpent, then the demon, then the wolf. Whoever comes today as a thief, let him be crushed and depart; let Indra destroy him with the thunderbolt, by the path of the outcast. The head of the beast, the teeth are broken, the backs are torn; let the monitor lizard be hidden, let the deer lie low. What is restraint is not restraint, what is not restraint is restraint; born of Indra and Soma, the spell of Atharvan subdues the tiger. The story turns to healing and release: the plant which the Gandharva dug up for Varuna, for the dead, is now dug up for you—the herb that brings joy and releases bonds. Rise up, O Sun, rise up, my speech; let Prajapati rise up, the bull, with vigor and strength. Just as from the root you are not scorched like something burned, so may this herb make you more vigorous. The potent essence of herbs, the strength of bulls—Indra, place that virility in the one who controls his body. The sap of waters, first-born, and of the trees—you are the brother of Soma, and the virility of the stallion. Today, O Agni, O Savitar, O divine Sarasvati, O Brahmanaspati—stretch out the fetter like a bowstring. I loosen your fetter as one loosens the bowstring, like a red deer stepping forth, always without exhaustion. The strength of the horse, mule, goat, ram, and bull—place all that vigor here in the one who controls his body. Finally, the thousand-horned bull who rose up from the ocean—with that mighty one, all people are lulled to sleep. The wind does not blow over the earth, nor does anyone see beyond; lull all women to sleep, O Indra’s friend, as you move about. Thus, from creation and cosmic order, through the cycles of life and healing, to the subduing of dangers and the invocation of sleep, the sacred story unfolds, linking the divine powers, the elements, and the living beings in a tapestry of prayer, protection, and reverence.