The sages, eager for understanding, approached the noble one and asked, “We wish to know this—please tell us, O noble one. What is that which, though seen directly, still confounds people?” The noble one began to explain: “Dhruva, the son of Uttānapāda, stands fixed in the sky, unmoving. Around him, the stars revolve, following his motion as if turning upon a wheel. The sun, the moon, the stars, and all the planets move together with the constellations, their conjunctions and separations, their movements and courses through time—all are governed by Dhruva. The equinoxes and even the colors of the planets proceed from him. From Dhruva arise all auspicious and inauspicious results for beings. He is the blazing, radiant one—the sun, the fire of time. The sun, with its network of rays, pervades everything, joined with the wind. All water is absorbed by the sun and then transferred to the moon. The water that flows from the moon remains within plants, nourishing them. Thus, water is repeatedly lifted up and falls down again, cycling eternally. This is the illusion created for sustaining the worlds. The Lord of all, the creator of the worlds, the thousand-eyed god, the progenitor—he oversees this wondrous cycle. All the water in the worlds, which comes from the moon and the sky, is governed by his will. Heat flows from the sun, while coolness proceeds from the moon. The sacred Ganges river, pure and clear, 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 gives this water to the clouds by means of its bright and pale rays. For the welfare of all beings, those waters, mixed with wind, are spread everywhere. Thunder, the sound borne by the wind, and lightning arising from fire—because the waters do not fall away from them, the wise know these as the abode of water. There are clouds of the fiery kind, clouds born of Brahma, and clouds born of wings, each of a distinct type. The fiery clouds are said to be born from stillness; in them, smoke arises. There are clouds in the form of buffaloes, boars, and intoxicated elephants—these are called Jīmūtas, and from them arises the life of beings. Mute clouds, vast in form, are subject to the will of the wind. On the slopes and peaks of mountains, they rain and trickle down. Those clouds called Brahmajā are born from the breath of Brahma. By their constant roaring, the earth, arising from its own limbs, is sustained. In these clouds, the rainy season is established, from which the life of beings arises. Even from a distance of a yojana, the Sādhyas are separated from them. Those clouds called Puṣkarāvarttaka are said to arise from the wings. Of beings whose desires have grown, wishing for well-being, these clouds have been named thus for this reason. They are the creators of the rain at the end of the aeon, the controllers of the fire of dissolution. Thus, the noble one revealed the mysteries of the heavens, the cycles of water, and the sustaining forces of the worlds, all governed by the eternal order and the will of the divine.