In the realm of existence, there is One who pervades all things, abiding eternally throughout every place and moment. Yet, despite this all-encompassing presence, he remains unseen, elusive to every eye and sense. No vision, no touch, no perception can grasp him; he transcends the limits of form and gender, being neither woman nor man, nor neuter. He is not above, across, or below, nor does he arise from any particular place. Though he is without a body, he dwells within bodies—both moving and unmoving—imperishable and eternal. The wise perceive him not through outward senses, but through inner reflection and contemplation. To speak at length is unnecessary, for the truth is simple: the self is distinct from the body. Those who fail to see this distinction are mistaken in their understanding. This body, attributed to the self, is impure, powerless, subject to pain, and impermanent. It is not the true self. When the self is joined with the seed of misfortune, it experiences happiness, unhappiness, or delusion, each according to its own actions. Just as a field watered by rain produces a sprout, so too does action, moistened by ignorance, give rise to embodiment. Countless bodies have been assumed—abodes of great joy and deaths of finality, both past and yet to come. The embodied one comes and goes, wearing out bodies, never attaining any permanent abode. Veiled and separated by bodies, he is glimpsed only faintly, like the disk of the moon obscured by shifting clouds. The activity of the self appears diverse because of the differences among many bodies, just as the movement of pieces is observed within the enclosure of a chessboard. No one truly belongs to another; meetings with wives, sons, and relatives are mere chance encounters. Just as two pieces of wood meet in the vast ocean and then part, so too are the gatherings of living beings. One may see the body, but the body itself does not see; someone else may see both, yet those two do not perceive him. From Brahmā down to the immovable, all beings are likened to cattle in this teaching. Bound by fetters, experiencing pleasure and pain, the being is called ‘cattle,’ serving as an instrument for the Lord’s play, as the wise declare. This ignorant creature, powerless over its own happiness and suffering, moves to heaven or hell, driven by the Lord’s will. Upon hearing these words spoken by the wind, the sages, delighted in mind, bowed to Vāyu, the master of the Śaiva doctrine, and addressed him: “This one called ‘cattle,’ and that which is called ‘fetters’—who is the distinct master over these two? Who is he?” There is indeed someone: the abode of endless and delightful qualities, the Lord, creator of the universe, who alone frees the cattle from their fetters. Without him, how could this creation exist? Both cattle and fetters are insentient and ignorant. All that is insentient, from primal matter down to the atom, acts only when guided by an intelligent cause. The world, being an effect, depends on a doer and is composite; thus, the role of doer belongs to the Lord, not to the cattle or the fetters. Even the actions of the cattle occur only through the Lord’s prompting, just as the movement of a blind person depends on another’s guidance. When one recognizes the self as distinct from the prompter and is favored by him, then one becomes fit for immortality. There is, in truth, a supreme state for the cattle, the fetters, and the Lord; knowing this, the knower of Brahman is freed from rebirth. This pair—perishable and imperishable, manifest and unmanifest—are united, sustained by the Lord, the liberator of the universe. The enjoyer, the enjoyed, and the prompter—these three must be understood; beyond them, nothing else is to be known by those who seek wisdom. Just as oil is hidden in sesame seeds, clarified butter in curds, water pervades a stream, and fire lies latent in wood, so too does one who is ever engaged in truth and austerity perceive the great Self within, distinct from the individual self. He alone, the Lord, weaves the net of the universe, together with the goddesses of sovereignty, by his own powers. Then, only Rudra exists; there is no second. Having created the worlds, he, the protector, withdraws them back into himself. With eyes everywhere, faces everywhere, arms and feet everywhere, he is present throughout all things. The one great Lord, having generated heaven and earth, is the source and origin of all the gods. He brings forth Hiraṇyagarbha, the first among the gods; yet Rudra is greater than all, as the sacred tradition declares. I know this supreme Person—great, immortal, unchanging, radiant like the sun, beyond all darkness, established as Lord. There is nothing higher or lower than this Supreme Self; nothing smaller nor greater. By him, this universe is filled. He is the Lord with all faces, heads, and necks, dwelling in the cave of all beings, pervading all. Therefore, Shiva is present everywhere. With hands and feet everywhere, with eyes, heads, and mouths everywhere, with ears throughout the world, he stands, enveloping all.