Contemplating deeply upon the yoga of Śiva, I remembered you with reverence, honoring the path you have walked. Through your many austerities, supreme devotion to Śiva arose within you, a devotion so pure that your actions, undisturbed by agitation, serve to purify the entire world. Let us recall, then, the wondrous Śaiva manifestation of ancient times, and hear its story. In the beginning, at the dawn of the universe, both I and Nārāyaṇa were born. By our own inherent nature, we arose and, soon after, quarreled with one another. The urge for battle between us became exceedingly fierce, threatening destruction upon the worlds. Why, one might ask, did such a battle arise between the two of us, bringing such turmoil to creation? At that very moment, both of us, deluded by rivalry, were intensely focused on each other, locked in our contest. In the Vedas, my own greatness is praised as surpassing all; yet, truly, every living being considers itself to be the highest. If I were to set a limit to myself anywhere in the universe, what would that mean? As these thoughts arose, Sadāśiva himself, having made a firm resolve in his mind, manifested—surpassing all the worlds, blazing on every side like a raging fire. Without beginning or end, he stood between us, who were both afflicted by our rivalry. Before us both, a bodiless voice resounded in the air: “It is Śiva alone who will discern the difference in strength between you two. If you both wish to know who is superior in strength, from beginning to end, then let it be tested.” Thus, Viṣṇu and I, endowed with movement, stood firm, determined to ascertain the truth. We both set out to observe the extremities of that great column of light that had appeared between us. Eager to measure its bounds, Viṣṇu set out to find its root, piercing deep into the womb of the earth, while I soared upward into the sky, seeking its uppermost end. Below, Agni appeared and beheld the pillar, seeing it as beginningless and imperishable. Distressed and bewildered, he could not find its origin. Exhausted and overcome by thirst, Hari (Viṣṇu) was unable to proceed further. Even after resting, the Lord of Lakshmi, weary and worn, could not continue his search. Bereft of splendor and worn out by effort, I realized the folly of my pride and sought refuge in Śiva, the protector of all. Shame filled me for this great arrogance, for he is the refuge not only of the Vedas, but of the gods and all the worlds themselves. That very Śiva, whom I had set out to seek, had assumed the form of a beast—an inscrutable mystery. Now, through the awakening of my own self, understanding returned to me. For the one who turns to him, knowledge arises instantly, born of the self and free from ego. With humility, I offered myself and took refuge in Śankara. By the true grace of the Lord of beings, I was again lifted up upon the earth. Yet, in my fatigue, my head spun, my eyes grew unsteady, my wings slackened, and I was overcome by exhaustion. Before me stood the pillar of light, massive like a linga—the Shaiva radiance worshipped by the gods. Desiring to see the supreme limit of Śambhu, I made every effort, but even as my body neared collapse, my ego did not depart. When the radiance is beyond reach, I realized, all such delusion and striving is in vain.