O Krishna, for the sake of understanding, you yourself should now speak. In the midst of the single, boundless ocean, I lay eternal, bearing the conch, discus, and mace—endowed with a thousand arms and united with my own self. I, the ancient one, rested there, radiant like millions of suns, shining forth and enveloped in splendor. In that vastness, the god with the dark blue throat appeared—praised by the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas. Then Brahma himself, brilliant and smiling, spoke: "I am the creator of the worlds, the self-born, the grandsire. I am the creator of the worlds, and again and again, I am their destroyer." For deeper understanding, the supreme liṅga, of the nature of Shiva, appeared—free from decay and growth, without beginning, middle, or end. Desiring to know its end, I, the unborn, ascended upward, searching for a hundred years. Yet even I, the grandsire, could not find its end. Bewildered by his māyā, we both—Brahma and myself—meditated on the Lord of the universe. With hands joined in reverence, we praised the supreme Shambhu, offering salutations again and again to Shiva, the peaceful one, the embodiment of Brahman, whose form is the liṅga. Shiva, the great yogi, shone with a radiance equal to ten million suns. He possessed a thousand hands and feet; his eyes were the sun, moon, and fire. He wore a serpent as his sacred thread, and his voice resounded like a thundercloud drum. "Behold me, the great god; let all fear be released," he declared. On his left side was Vishnu, the protector; in his heart was Hara. Embracing Brahma, he became inclined to grace. Seeing this divine face, Narayana and Pitamaha spoke: "May devotion to you, O great god, be constant for us." The great god, pleased and with a joyful heart, spoke to me: "Child, child, O Hari, protect this entire universe, both moving and unmoving. Though I am without attributes and untouched, I possess the qualities of creation, preservation, and dissolution. This blessed one will become your son, eternal in nature. I shall appear as your son, born from wrath, holding the trident." After blessing me, the god vanished right there. O Brahman, by merging into that liṅga, the supreme form of Brahman is attained. This is understood by those who know yoga, not by gods nor by demons. Through this, the subtle and inconceivable is seen by those endowed with knowledge. Salutations to Mahādeva, to Rudra, to the god of gods, to the one whose form is the liṅga.