A wondrous sight appeared: a Person with four faces, radiant in supreme yogic splendor, his form shining with the brilliance of burnished gold. In but a moment, this Supreme Person arrived before them, his presence filling the space with awe. One addressed the other with reverence and curiosity, “Who are you? From where have you come? And why do you stand here? Tell me, O Lord.” Thus questioned, Brahmā replied, and the two entered into conversation, each intent on asserting his own greatness, each seeking victory over the other. As their debate continued, a most astonishing vision unfolded before their eyes—a mighty, ever-increasing flame arose. It was a wondrous sight, a circle of fire that pierced both heaven and earth, standing between them in its dazzling, unearthly glory. Within this fiery circle appeared an unmanifest liṅga, radiant and shining, about the size of a span, yet its true nature was beyond words—sometimes visible, sometimes hidden, its brilliance ever growing, its form terrible to behold, as if it would split the very heavens and earth apart. A sense of awe and challenge gripped them both. “Let us discern the end of this great liṅga,” they resolved, agreeing to search for its limits. One went upward, the other downward, each seeking the source or the end of that miraculous column of light. Yet, no matter how far they journeyed, neither could find its end; fear and wonder filled their hearts. Defeated by the infinite, they returned to the place from which they had set out, standing again before that vast, unending ocean of fire. By the power of his māyā, they became deluded, their awareness lost in the mystery before them. For this was no ordinary vision—this was the imperishable Lord, the origin and dissolution of all worlds, the Supreme, unmanifest One. Recognizing the greatness that stood before them, they bowed in reverence and offered their obeisance to the unmanifest, the source of all. “Salutations to you, eternal master of perfect yoga, foundation of all the worlds. You are the eldest, Vāmadeva, Rudra, Skanda, Śiva—the Lord of all. You are the svāhā invocation, the act of homage, the consecration of every rite. The Vedas, the worlds, the gods—all these, O Lord, are yourself entirely. On earth, you are fragrance; in water, taste; in fire, form—these are your manifestations, O great Lord. In wind, you are touch; in the moon, form—these too, O Lord of the gods, are you. In intellect, you are knowledge; in nature, you are the very seed—these are your forms, O Lord. You alone sustain the three worlds and create them anew. With your southern mouth, you withdraw the worlds; with your northern mouth, you are Soma, O best of gods. The Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Maruts, and the twin Aśvins—all arise from you. The Vālakhilyas, the great-souled ones, ascetics, and those steadfast in vows—all are your creation. Umā, Sītā, Sinīvālī, Kuhū, and Gāyatrī, too, are born from you, O Lord of the gods. From you come Sandhyā and Night as well. Salutations to you, bearer of the thunderbolt and the Pināka bow; salutations, O god clad in gold. Salutations to you, O god of the golden seed, of a thousand wondrous eyes, golden hero, giver of gold. Salutations to you, wielder of the Pināka, O Shankara, blue-throated one. O god of gods, origin of the world, radiant as millions of suns, with thousands of mouths as if devouring the very sky—we bow to you.” Thus, in awe and humility, they recognized the infinite, all-encompassing Lord whose glory fills the universe.