In the vast expanse of the cosmos, there dwell eighty-eight thousand sages, renowned for their extraordinary discipline—they retain their vital essence upwards, abstaining from union and refraining from worldly intercourse. Some among them practice union without desire, perceiving the flaws in sensory pleasures such as sound and touch. Through such ascetic restraint, when the time of cosmic dissolution arrives, those who remain manifest immortality. Others are distinguished by their deeds, both virtuous and otherwise—marked by actions such as the killing of a fetus or performing the horse sacrifice. Yet, above and beyond all these sages, Dhruva is remembered as residing in a supreme place. There, upholders of worlds like Dharma and Dhruva themselves remain, steadfast in their cosmic roles. Now, let me declare, in proper order, the future events concerning these great beings—the movements of the sun and moon, and likewise all the planets. All these celestial motions, whether sequential or without confusion, I shall explain. The seekers ask, “We wish to know this—please tell us, O noble one. That which, though seen directly, still confounds people—what is its nature?” Dhruva, the son of Uttānapāda, stands fixed in the sky. Around him, the stars revolve, following his motion as spokes revolve around a wheel. The sun, the moon, the stars, and all the planets move together with the constellations, their conjunctions and separations, their courses and timings—all proceed from Dhruva. The equinoxes, the colors of the planets, and all auspicious and inauspicious results for beings arise from his influence. He is the blazing, radiant one—the fire of time, the sun itself. The sun, with its network of rays, pervades all things, joined with the wind. All water, absorbed by the sun, is transferred to the moon. The water that flows from the moon remains in plants. Thus, water is repeatedly lifted up and falls down again, creating an illusion that sustains the worlds. The Lord of all—the creator, the thousand-eyed god, the progenitor—oversees this cycle. All the water in the worlds, coming from the moon and the sky, circulates through his design. Heat flows from the sun, coolness proceeds from the moon. The pure and clear Ganges river is sustained by the moon. Indeed, the waters present in the bodies of all beings, having become vapor, depart from here entirely, without desire. The sun draws up water from all beings by means of its rays. That water, like nectar, gives life to plants. The sun then gives this water to the clouds by means of its bright and pale rays. For the welfare of all beings, these waters, mixed with wind, are spread everywhere. Thunder, wind-borne sound, and lightning arising from fire—all these phenomena, because the waters do not fall away from them, are known by the wise as the abode of water. There are clouds of various kinds: fiery clouds, those born of Brahma, and those born of wings, each possessing distinct qualities. The fiery clouds are said to be born from stillness; in them, smoke arises. Some clouds take the form of buffaloes, boars, and intoxicated elephants. These are called Jīmūtas, and from them arises the very life of all beings. Thus, the celestial order, the cycles of sun and moon, the movement of water, and the sustaining of life are all woven together by the wisdom and power of the cosmic guardians, with Dhruva at the center, forever steadfast in the heavens.