All beings and things in creation act according to their own inherent nature, never another’s, for such is the divine power of the Supreme Lord’s command. Speech and all the organs of action function as they have been established, each performing its own task and nothing else, under the command of Shiva. Sounds and their reception, the very act of speaking—all these occur by his will. Shambhu’s command is supreme and unbreakable; it grants opportunity to every being without exception. Space itself, all-pervading, exists by the order of the Supreme Lord, and through breath and the manifold distinctions of name, the world is manifest both within and without. By Sharva’s command, the wind sustains all things, carrying offerings to the gods and oblations to the ancestors, nourishing those who partake of them. Agni, the fire, cooks and performs many other tasks by the Supreme Lord’s will, while water, too, revives and fulfills its purposes for all beings, as decreed. The earth, ever steadfast, supports the world by the Lord of the universe’s command—she nourishes the gods, destroys demons, and protects the three worlds. Indra, king of the gods, and all the other deities, rule over the waters without fail by this same command; Varuna, too, is ever their lord. By this command, the guilty are bound in fetters, and the lord of the Yakshas, master of riches, bestows wealth. According to each being’s merit, prosperity is granted by the Supreme Person’s instruction, and enduring knowledge is given to the wise. The wicked are restrained by Shiva’s command, and Shesha, by Shiva’s order, bears the earth upon his mighty head. Even the dark, fierce, death-bringing form of Hari is created entirely by the Lord’s command. Vishnu, with his many forms, protects and ultimately destroys; he preserves the universe at the Lord of Time’s behest. With his threefold nature, Hari creates, trembles, and, at the end, destroys all worlds—always by the Supreme command. The soul of the universe, threefold, creates and protects; Time accomplishes all things, and Time brings all beings to their end. Time preserves the universe by the Lord of Time’s command, sustaining the world in three portions, sending forth rain and other phenomena. In the sky, the sun pours rain by the command of the God of gods, nourishing plants and delighting all living beings. By the order of the moon-crested Lord, the gods drink the essence of the moon—the Adityas, Vasus, Rudras, Ashvins, and Maruts, all partake. Celestial beings, sages, perfected ones, those who enjoy, humans, wild animals, cattle, birds, insects, and even immobile beings—rivers, oceans, mountains, forests, lakes, the Vedas and their branches, treatises, mantras, hymns, and sacrifices—all these exist by his command. All the worlds, from Kālāgni to Śiva, with their rulers, countless universes and their coverings, everything that exists now, has passed, or will come to be, all directions and their intermediates, divisions and portions of time—whatever is seen or heard in this world, all is established by the power of Śaṅkara’s command. By his command, the earth stands firm, as do the mountains, clouds, oceans, the host of luminaries, the gods led by Indra, and all that exists, moving or unmoving, conscious or unconscious. How wondrous is this, O Krishna! Such is the boundless work of Śambhu. Listen to this marvel, as I have heard it from the very mouth of the Veda. Long ago, the gods, with Indra at their head, quarreled among themselves after defeating the demons in battle. Each boasted, “I am the victor!” “No, I am!” In the midst of their pride, the great Lord appeared before them in a wondrous, formless guise, manifesting as a Yaksha. He addressed the gods, taking a single blade of grass from the earth: “Let any one among you who can alter this be known as the true conqueror of the demons.” Hearing this, Vajrapāṇi, Indra himself, lord of Śacī, laughed with some anger and tried to pick up the blade of grass. Yet neither with his mind nor his hand could he grasp it. Determined, he hurled his mighty thunderbolt to cut it. But the thunderbolt, meeting the Yaksha’s own power, was struck by the blade of grass and fell aside, powerless. Then, the other mighty guardians of the worlds, enraged, hurled their weapons by the thousands at the blade of grass. A great fire blazed forth, a fierce wind blew, and the lord of waters swelled, as if dissolution itself approached. Yet, O Krishna, all the gods, striving together against the blade of grass, were rendered utterly powerless by the Yaksha’s might. Then Indra, lord of the gods, angrily demanded of the Yaksha, “Who are you?” But as they all watched, the Yaksha vanished from their sight. At that very moment, the goddess of the Himalayas appeared in the sky, adorned with divine ornaments, radiant and smiling beautifully. Seeing her, the gods led by Shakra were filled with wonder. Bowing to her, they asked, “Who is this extraordinary Yaksha?” The goddess smiled and replied, “He is beyond your perception. By him, this wheel of samsara, of all that moves and does not move, is set in motion. By him, the universe is first created, and by him, it is again dissolved. There is no other controller—by him alone is all governed.” Having spoken thus, the great goddess vanished on the spot. The gods, amazed and humbled, bowed to her and returned to their heavenly abodes.