May Viṣṇu, the Lord of the universe, who weaves the three worlds together through his divine illusion—just as a single fire pervades all that moves and does not move—be my refuge. He is present everywhere, sustaining all creation, and in every cycle of existence, he brings forth beings. From him, this entire world of moving and unmoving things arises, and when the spirit of Rudra takes hold, all dissolves back into him. He is known by many names: Hari, Viṣṇu, and Hara. From Viṣṇu arise space, the moon, earth, wind, fire, sun, and water—each a form of his eternal, blessed, and inconceivable nature. May that Viṣṇu always grant me well-being. Once, the Earth herself addressed the Lord: “O Lord, what did Nārāyaṇa, the universal form, do at the beginning, in the Kṛta Yuga? Tell me truly.” Śrī Varāha replied: In the beginning, only Nārāyaṇa existed; nothing was apart from Hari. He alone found delight, yet did not act according to his own will. Desiring a companion, a thought arose within him, composed of intellect and self; it was called 'Asu,' and for a moment, it shone like the sun. This thought also became twofold, becoming the reasoning of Brahman. What mortals know as 'Umā' was established. She became the single syllable 'Om,' and then created the earth. Bhūḥ created Bhuvaḥ, and he created Svaḥ, then Mahaḥ. Afterward, Jana and Tapa came forth, and the self was dissolved. All creation was woven together like gems strung on a thread. When the universe, uttered by the sacred syllable, existed only as emptiness, the form of the Blessed One—Śaṅkara—was himself Hari. Seeing these worlds as void and wishing to create the highest form, he stirred the realm of mind and from his own measure fashioned a shape. Standing in this stirred state, the cosmic egg was brought into being. When it was divided, Bhūloka was established. Another world appeared in the middle, radiant like the sun; the Ancient Person, pervading it, was established within the lotus sheath. That god Nārāyaṇa, brilliant as the progenitor, produced the first vowel 'a' from his navel, and also the consonant 'ha.' At the creation of the formless, he sang forth the scriptures to the directions. Having created them, the immeasurable self again contemplated support. As he contemplated, from his eyes arose a great radiance: from the right, fiery; from the left, cool like the moon. Seeing this, the supreme lord fashioned the moon and the sun. Then breath arose, and from the supreme lord, the wind. That wind, the blessed one, still moves within the heart, pervading all. From him arose fire, and from fire, the great waters. That fire is the divine radiance, the supreme cause of the Brāhmaṇas. From his arms, he created the radiance of the Kṣatriyas. From his thighs, the mighty one created the Vaiśyas, and from his feet, the Śūdras. He also created the Yakṣas and Rākṣasas. With these four kinds of beings, he filled the earth-world, the atmosphere-world with beings moving in the sky, and the heaven-world with other celestial beings. He filled Maharloka with those beings and with Sanaka and the others, and Janaloka with the Vairājas. Then, Tapoloka was filled with those devoted to austerity, and Satyaloka with gods free from death. Having thus created creation, the blessed Lord, originator of beings, remains awake in his own cycle of time called a kalpa, as the Supreme Lord. In that world, the earth-world, atmosphere-world, and heaven-world are born; all these three come into being without doubt. But when the god sleeps at the end of a kalpa, that is his night; then these three worlds become dormant, as if submerged in dissolution. When that night had passed, the lotus-eyed one arose and contemplated the Vedas and their mothers in all four directions. Yet, though he pondered, the Lord of gods could not find the Vedas. Desiring to establish the path and order of the worlds, but confused by the sleep of ignorance, the Lord of gods reflected: “Here, the Vedas are not present.” Then, seeing them merged in his own form called 'water,' he wished to recover them and thought to become a fish, entering the waters. Thus meditating, a great fish instantly appeared, and the god entered the water, stirring it all around. As he entered, the water became radiant with the form of the great earth-bearer. As the best of gods took the form of a fish and entered the great ocean, the gods praised Hari, who held the earth, with hymns: “Homage to you, who are beyond the reach of the Vedas and reasoning; homage to Nārāyaṇa in the form of a fish; homage to you, melodious one, universal form; homage to you, bearer of the form of knowledge and fearlessness. Homage to you, whose forms are the moon, sun, and winds, who dwell within all waters, with beautiful eyes; homage to Viṣṇu—we seek your refuge; protect us, leaving aside your fish form. By you, O infinite form, the universe is pervaded; what else exists here, O god, apart from you? You are not different from this; from you we have sought refuge. The sky, the moon, the fire, and the mind are forms of your ancient body, O lotus-eyed one; forgive us, O auspicious one, even if we lack devotion—for by you, O god of gods, the world shines. This divine form of yours appears contradictory—most fearsome, yet with a sweet voice, like a mountain; O ancient Lord of gods, abode of the world, grant us peace, O unfailing one, O intensely radiant one. Indeed, we have all sought your refuge; out of fear, we behold this form of yours. In the world, apart from you, nothing ancient embodied exists.” Thus praised, the Lord abiding in the waters assumed his form and took up the Vedas, along with the Upaniṣads and scriptures. As long as the Blessed Lord remains in his own form, the world exists; when he is in the immutable, all dissolves into him, but when in the mutable, it grows. Śrī Varāha concluded: Thus, having created all the worlds, the Lord, sustainer of beings, ceased; and then creation flourished upon the earth.