O Maitreya, listen attentively as the sage describes the wondrous arrangement by which the world is sustained. All that exists—gods, asuras, humans, and every living being—rests upon a profound cycle, woven together by the Sun. The Sun, in his eight-month journey, draws up the waters of the earth, those which are the very essence of nourishment. He gathers them with his rays, and then returns them as rain. From this rain, food is produced, and from food, the entire world is sustained. This is how it unfolds: the Sun, with his sharp rays, draws water from the earth, and the Moon then nourishes it. The Moon, using channels fashioned from wind in the sky, disperses this water into the clouds, transforming it into vapor, fire, and wind. The clouds retain the water, for it is their own essence. Driven by the wind, these waters descend to earth, and, through the transformation brought by time, become pure. The Sun takes up water of four kinds: from rivers, oceans, the earth itself, and even from living beings. He also draws up the waters of the celestial Ganga, and, as if in a cloudless sky, immediately casts them down to earth with his rays. When a mortal’s sins and impurities are washed away by contact with this sacred water, he does not descend into hell; for such a bath is considered divine. The water that falls from the sky when the Sun is visible and there are no clouds is indeed the water of the celestial Ganga, cast down by the Sun’s rays. Furthermore, when water falls as the Sun is seen among the stars, from Krittika onward and in the uneven constellations, it is Ganga water, poured down by the guardian elephants of the directions. When water falls during the conjunctions of paired stars, it is cast down by the Sun and dispersed by his rays. Both forms of water are supremely meritorious, removing the fear of sin—the celestial Ganga water and the divine bath. Yet, the water released by clouds nourishes all living beings. It sustains all plants, for it is truly the nectar of life. Through this nectar, all kinds of plants grow to their highest potential, maturing and bearing fruit, productive for all living beings. By these fruits, people, guided by the scriptures, perform prescribed sacrifices day after day, and by these acts, they nourish the gods. Thus, sacrifices, the Vedas, the classes beginning with the twice-born, all the hosts of gods, and every group of beings—all are sustained by rain, which produces food. And that rain itself, O sage, is produced by the Sun. But the Sun, too, rests upon the fixed star Dhruva, who supports him. And Shishumara, who supports Dhruva, is of the nature of Narayana. Narayana abides within the heart of Shishumara, sustaining all beings, the primeval and eternal one. Now hear of Soma, the Moon, whose chariot is bright as jasmine and has three wheels. Ten horses are yoked to it—five on the left and five on the right—by which he moves. The stars, following their paths, are attached to this chariot by the swift and steadfast Dhruva; their waxing and waning resemble the course of the Sun’s rays. Just as the Sun’s horses, so too the Moon’s are yoked once and pull for a whole kalpa, having arisen from the waters. When Soma, diminished and drunk by the gods, is replenished, the radiant Sun fills the single remaining digit with a single ray. Thus, what is consumed by the gods is replenished each day by the Sun, the thief of water. Within half a month, the nectar and ambrosia contained in the Moon is gathered. The gods, who subsist on nectar, drink it, and thus they are immortal. Thirty-three thousand and thirty-three hundred, and also thirty-three gods, drink the Moon, the lord of the night. When only two kalās remain, the Moon enters the orb of the Sun, dwelling in the ray called Amākhyā, and thus the new moon is remembered. During day and night, the Moon first enters the waters, then dwells in the plants, and afterwards gradually proceeds to the Sun. Whoever cuts plants or drops even a single leaf while the Moon is in the plants incurs the sin of killing a Brahmin. When only a small portion remains, the fifteenth part of the Moon, in the afternoon, the hosts of ancestors worship the lowest portion. The remaining two kalās, pure nectar and ambrosia, are drunk by the ancestors from the Moon. That nectar and ambrosia, released from the Moon’s rays at the new moon, grant the ancestors supreme satisfaction for a month—the Saumyas, Barhishads, and Agniṣvāttas, these three kinds. Thus, in the bright fortnight for the gods and in the dark fortnight for the ancestors, the plants, with their nectar-filled, cool, minute particles, nourish them. By the production of plants and herbs, the Moon nourishes humans, cattle, and insects with his brightness and delight. The chariot of the son of the Moon is formed from wind, fire, and material substances, yoked with eight tawny horses, swift as the wind. With a canopy and yoke, drawn by horses born of the earth, adorned with banners and attendants, the great chariot of Venus is thus equipped. The chariot of Mars is golden, yoked with eight horses of ruby and red hue, born of fire, and is splendid. Jupiter’s golden chariot, yoked with eight white horses, carries him as he moves from sign to sign, standing at the end of the rainy season. Saturn’s chariot is yoked with horses born of the sky, dappled in color; mounting it, Saturn moves slowly, the slow-moving planet. The eight horses of Svarbhānu are like bees, gray in color; yoked together, they always carry the chariot without interruption. Rāhu, released from the Sun, approaches the Moon at the junctions, and from the Moon returns to the Sun again at the solar junctions. Thus, O Maitreya, by the divine arrangements of Sun, Moon, stars, and planets, the world is nourished and sustained. Rain, food, sacrifice, and all beings are upheld by this sacred cycle, in which Narayana abides as the eternal support.