O wise one, listen attentively as the ancient seers once spoke of the workings of the universe and the profound power at its heart. The distinction and mutual dependence between the primal matter—Pradhāna—and the Self arise from a subtle power. It is this power that stirs creation into motion, setting all things in their courses. Imagine, dear sage, how the wind, when mingled with water, can uphold countless droplets. In just this way, the sustaining force of Viṣṇu upholds both the unmanifest Pradhāna and the Self, supporting the very fabric of existence. From the first seed, roots, trunks, branches, and further seeds emerge. This process continues without end: from one, many arise, and from them, others, each generation following the qualities and causes of its predecessor. So too, from the unmanifest springs forth the great principle, and from it, the elemental substances. From these elements come the gods and other beings, and from them, their children, and from those children, yet further descendants. This lineage flows on, unbroken. Yet just as a tree is not diminished by the sprouting of its seeds, so too is there no lessening among beings as new beings come into creation. The source remains full and undiminished. For a tree to grow, space, time, and proximity must come together. In the transformation of the universe, it is the Blessed Hari alone—Nārāyaṇa—who is the true cause, bringing all conditions together for manifestation. Consider a single grain of rice: within it lie the root, stalk, leaves, sprout, stem, sheath, flower, milk, and the ripening grains. The husk and grain both emerge when all causes for growth unite. In the same way, the gods and all beings come forth into manifestation when empowered by Viṣṇu. Know that Viṣṇu is the Supreme Brahman—the source from which the entire universe arises, in whom all things exist, and into whom all shall dissolve. He is that supreme abode, transcending both existence and non-existence, pervading all that moves and all that is still, the wellspring from which all arise. He is the root-prakriti, the manifest form, and the universe itself. Into him, all things dissolve and in him they abide. He is the doer of actions, the object of worship, the sacrifice itself, and the fruit of all actions. Even the means of offering—the ladle and all else—are none other than Hari. Nothing exists apart from him. Now, hear of the Lord’s celestial form. In the heavens, Hari appears in the constellation shaped like a dolphin, woven of stars; Dhruva, the steadfast star, is established at the dolphin’s tail. As this form revolves, it causes the moon, the sun, and all the planets to revolve with it. The stars follow in this cosmic dance, circling like spokes of a wheel. The sun, moon, stars, and planets are all bound to Dhruva by cords of wind, holding them fixed in their courses. This form of the luminaries, known as the dolphin-shape, is Nārāyaṇa himself—he who supports all the abodes, holding them in his own heart. Dhruva, the son of Uttānapāda, having worshipped the Lord, became that steadfast star at the dolphin’s tail. Janārdana, the Lord, supports the dolphin; the dolphin supports Dhruva; and the sun is established in Dhruva. Thus, the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans alike—is upheld by this divine order. Listen now to the arrangement by which this support is given. The sun, over eight months, draws up the waters—the very sap of life. These waters, gathered by the sun, are released as rain, from which food is produced, and from food, all living beings arise. With his radiant rays, the sun draws water from rivers, oceans, the earth, and even living beings. The moon then nourishes this water, and through channels of wind in the sky, disperses it into clouds as vapor, fire, and wind. The clouds, retaining this water, release it when driven by the wind; time transforms it, and it falls to earth purified. The sun also draws up the waters of the celestial Ganga, casting them down to earth with his rays. When mortals are touched by this water, their sins and impurities are washed away, for such a bath is divine and leads not to suffering. Whenever water falls from the sky while the sun is visible and the sky is clear, know this is the water of the celestial Ganga, brought down by the sun’s rays. When the sun is seen among the stars, from Krittika onward and in the uneven constellations, the water that falls is also Ganga water, poured down by the guardian elephants of the directions. When water falls during the conjunctions of paired stars, it too is cast down by the sun and taken up again by his rays. Both types of water are supremely meritorious, removing the fear of sin. Yet the water released by the clouds nourishes all living beings. It sustains the plants, for it is truly the nectar of life. By this rain, all kinds of plants grow to their fullness, mature, and bear fruit, providing sustenance for all creatures. Guided by the scriptures, people use this bounty to perform sacrifices day after day, thereby nourishing the gods. Thus, sacrifices, the Vedas, the social orders beginning with the twice-born, all hosts of gods, and all beings are sustained by rain, which produces food. And this rain itself, O sage, is produced by the sun. Dhruva, the steadfast star, is the support of the sun, and the dolphin-shaped constellation, the Shishumara, supports Dhruva. This Shishumara is of the very nature of Nārāyaṇa, who abides in its heart, sustaining all beings as the primeval and eternal one. Now, let me tell you of the moon’s path. The chariot of Soma, the moon, is bright as jasmine and has three wheels. Ten horses are yoked to it—five on each side—drawing it along its course. The stars, following their ordained paths, are attached to this chariot by the unyielding Dhruva. Their waxing and waning mirrors the journey of the sun’s rays. Thus, O sage, all the worlds, celestial and earthly, move in their courses through the sustaining power of the Supreme Lord, who pervades all, upholds all, and from whom all things arise and into whom all things return.