Covered and separated by the many bodies in which he dwells, the true Self is perceived as distant and veiled—like the disk of the moon, hidden behind ever-shifting clouds in the night sky. Here in this world, the activity of the Self appears manifold and diverse, only because of the differences among the many bodies it inhabits; it is like watching the movement of a chess piece within the confines of a chessboard, where the same hand moves different pieces in different ways. No one truly belongs to another, nor does anyone possess another. Our meetings with wives, sons, and relatives are but chance encounters, fleeting and incidental. Just as two pieces of wood, tossed by the vast ocean, may meet for a brief moment and then drift apart, so too are the gatherings and partings of living beings in this world. One may see a body, but the body does not see in return. Someone else may see both the seer and the seen, yet those two do not perceive him. From Brahmā, the creator, down to the immovable stones and plants, all beings are likened to cattle—this is the teaching for all living things. Bound by various fetters, experiencing pleasure and pain, these beings are called “cattle,” serving as instruments for the Lord’s divine play, as the wise declare. This creature, ignorant and powerless over its own happiness and suffering, moves to heaven or to hell, driven solely by the will of the Lord. Hearing these profound words spoken by the wind, the sages, their minds filled with delight, bowed to Vāyu, the expert in the Śaiva doctrine, and addressed him with reverence. They asked, “You speak of the one called ‘cattle’ and that which is called ‘fetters.’ Who, then, is the distinct master over both? Who is he?” Vāyu replied: There is indeed someone—the abode of endless and delightful qualities, the Lord, the creator of the universe—who alone frees the cattle from their fetters. Without him, how could this creation of the universe exist? For both the cattle and the fetters are insentient and ignorant, lacking the power to create or act on their own. All that is insentient, from the primal matter down to the smallest atom, is seen to act only when guided by an intelligent cause. The world, being an effect, depends on a doer and is composed of many parts; therefore, the true doer is the Lord—not the cattle, nor the fetters. Even the actions of the cattle occur only through the prompting of the Lord, just as a blind person’s movement depends on the guidance of another. When one comes to recognize the Self as distinct from the prompter, and is thus graced 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 the cycle of rebirth. This world is composed of a pair—the perishable and the imperishable, the manifest and the unmanifest—both united and sustained by the Lord, the liberator of the universe. The wise understand three: the enjoyer, the enjoyed, and the prompter; beyond these, there is nothing else to be known. Just as oil is hidden within sesame seeds, clarified butter lies within curds, water pervades a stream, and fire is latent in wood, so too, one who is ever engaged in truth and austerity perceives the great Self within himself, distinct from the individual self. He alone, the Lord, weaves the net of creation, together with the goddesses of sovereignty, by his own divine powers. Then, Rudra alone exists; there is no second. Having created the universe of worlds, he, the protector, withdraws them back into himself. He is the one with eyes everywhere, faces everywhere, arms everywhere, and feet everywhere, pervading all. The 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 the Lord. There is nothing higher or lower than this Supreme Self; nothing smaller nor greater. By him, this entire universe is filled. He is the Lord with all faces, heads, and necks, dwelling in the cave of all beings, pervading everything; thus, Shiva is present everywhere. With hands and feet everywhere, with eyes, heads, and mouths everywhere, with ears everywhere in the world, he stands, enveloping all. He appears as the qualities of all the senses, yet is himself devoid of all the senses—the Lord, ruler of all, the refuge and friend of all beings. Though without eyes, he sees; though without ears, he hears; he knows everything, but none knows him. Therefore, he is called the Supreme Person. He is subtler than the subtle, greater than the great, imperishable, hidden in the cave of the heart as the great Lord. One who is free from sorrow, by the grace of the creator, beholds that Lord, who is actionless, yet the source of all actions, possessed of supreme greatness. I know this ageless, ancient, all-pervading and mighty one, whose cessation of birth is declared by the knowers of Brahman. Though one, by the union of his powers, he manifests these three worlds in manifold ways. She, called the bearer of the universe and unborn, is the supreme, wondrous, creative power of Shiva—unborn, red, white, and black, she alone is the progenitor of all. The unborn one lies with the mother, enjoying her own form; but the other, though also unborn, abandons her, seeking the enjoyment of devotees. Two birds, united and close, perch upon the same tree; one eats the sweet fig, while the other, not eating, simply looks on. On this tree, the person, immersed and hidden, grieves; but when he beholds the other, the Lord, the supreme cause, he becomes satisfied. Thus is the nature of the Self, the Lord, and the universe, revealed by the wise, for those who seek to know the highest truth.