In the vast cycles of time, when an age draws to its close, all beings—whether moving or unmoving, the rivers that flow and the mountains that stand firm—are overcome by a mighty transformation. The relentless rays of the sun burn down upon all, leaving none untouched. Helpless before this cosmic heat, the bodies of all creatures are scorched, and in that burning, their sins are cleansed away at the end of the age. As this great dissolution comes, those who have perished are born again among others of similar form, beginning anew in the next creation. In this fresh world, the mind-born sons of Brahmā spring into existence. When the worlds are consumed by the seven blazing suns, all waters—whether oceanic, born of clouds, or terrestrial—are affected. The waters that come and go in abundance, the radiance that shines forth, and the sound 'bhā' that signifies pervasion and brilliance, all these fill the earth in every direction. The very root 'śara' is said to have many meanings, each revealed when it is broken down and contemplated. When a thousand yugas have passed and Brahmā’s day comes to an end, the fire dissipates from the surface of the earth, leaving only the waters behind. Over these waters presides Brahmā, the mighty Person, governing the world. In that time, all that is movable and immovable is lost within a single, boundless ocean. It is then that the sages recite a verse concerning Nārāyaṇa: as the waters fill all, he is called Nārāyaṇa, the thousand-armed, the first progenitor, the Person composed of the three Vedas. He is described as the golden-embryo, the great-souled being who arises beyond the mind’s reach. At the end of the kalpa, as darkness grows and Time becomes supreme, all is once again devoured. Time divides himself threefold and proceeds throughout the three worlds. In that single ocean, where nothing remains but the waters, Brahmā—called Nārāyaṇa—shines forth into existence. The sages dwelling in the world of Mahas behold Time itself, lying dormant in sleep. When these great ones turn their attention, the supreme principle associated with Mahat—the Great Principle—is set into motion. From the steadfastness of Mahat, the great seers arise, those seven who were known as the great seers in the previous cycle, beginning with Sattva. At that moment, these great seers, newly brought forth, see Time lying dormant, awaiting the next creation. Because Brahmā creates through the power of imagination, this cycle is known as a Kalpa. All that is manifest and unmanifest, O great god, belongs to him. Yet, between manifestation and unmanifestation, there existed a prior state, a subtle existence before all things. Now, let it be clearly explained: at the end of the cosmic night, Brahmā acts anew for the sake of creation. In that ocean of darkness, when all that is movable and immovable has disappeared, only the elements or pure existence remain, divided and awaiting form. Then, impelled by desire and force, Brahmā, with his own thought, sets the process of creation in motion. Knowing that the earth lies hidden within those waters, the god performs once more the act remembered from previous Kalpas. Desiring the earth, now covered by the boundless waters, the Lord of creatures prepares to bring it forth again. Within the oceans dwell the oceanic beings, and within the rivers, the riverine ones—all awaiting the dawn of the new creation.