He who is always endowed with these divine qualities is therefore known as Bhagavān. Yogis, seeking the highest truth, meditate upon the formless radiance, considering it the true form of the Absolute—unseen, yet the seer of all; all-knowing, the very cause of everything. However, the Vaiṣṇavas, endowed with subtle vision and unwavering devotion, do not accept this alone. Instead, they behold the supreme radiant Brahman situated at the center of a resplendent circle of light, bearing a form of unsurpassed beauty and supreme enchantment. This divine form is of the hue of a fresh raincloud—singularly dark, lovely, and the very Lord of the rāsa dance. His rows of teeth shine like great, spotless pearls, captivating all who behold him. With a fine nose and an ever-smiling face, he continually bestows grace upon his devotees. He stands two-armed, holding a flute, adorned with jeweled ornaments. He is the bestower of all lordly powers, entirely independent, wholly auspicious. The Vaiṣṇavas ever meditate upon this eternal divine form, for whom even the lifespan of Brahmā is but a fleeting moment. The very name 'Kṛṣṇa' is deeply meaningful: 'Kṛṣ' denotes devotion to him, and 'ṇa' signifies the act of service. 'Kṛṣi' signifies all-encompassing, and the syllable 'ṇa' is the mark of the seed. Even after the fall of countless Brahmās and the passing of ages, O Nārada, at the dawn of each creation, it is that Krishna alone who desires to create. By his own free will, Krishna became twofold in form. He, the eternal foundation of desire, beheld his counterpart, filled with great longing. She was supreme—her face radiant as the full moon, her neck graceful as a conch, endowed with beauty and fortune, delightful as a pair of auspicious coconuts. Exceedingly beautiful, serene, and smiling, her eyes were charming and slightly curved, like those of a swan or a chakora bird, gazing joyfully and unceasingly. Her form was adorned with musk spots and a mark of sandalwood below, her splendid, well-arranged hair wreathed with garlands of jasmine. She shone with a brilliance surpassing ten million moons. With her, the Lord of the Rasa, in the circle of the rāsa dance, was united in perfect love. As if the very embodiment of love itself, Krishna engaged in various kinds of amorous play with her. Then, exhausted, the father of the world entered her womb. O virtuous one, at the close of their union, from her body—wearied by the great union—a breath arose. That exhaled breath became the very support of all beings. From the left side of this embodied wind arose the beloved of life, and from this union, prāṇa, apāna, samāna, udāna, and vyāna—the five vital airs—came forth. From the sweat and water of their union, the great god Varuṇa was born. Then, the Kṛṣṇa-śakti herself bore a child from Krishna. She, the goddess presiding over Krishna's very life, was dearer to him than life itself. After a hundred Manvantaras had passed, at that time, the supremely beautiful goddess beheld the cosmic egg and was deeply afflicted in her heart. Witnessing her abandonment, Krishna cried out in lamentation.