O best of sages, listen as I recount the wondrous workings of the heavens and the deep mysteries of the cosmos, as revealed in the sacred tradition. Just as the mighty Sun harnesses his chariot for the journey across the sky, so too are his horses yoked at the dawn of each kalpa, rising from the primordial waters to pull his radiant chariot unceasingly for the span of that vast age. The Sun’s journey is not solitary, for he is intimately linked with the Moon, the lord of the night. When the nectar of Soma—the essence drunk and diminished by the gods—is replenished, the Sun, resplendent, fills the Moon’s final remaining digit with a single ray. Thus, what is consumed by the gods from the Moon is daily restored by the Sun, who is also known as the thief of water. Within half a month, the nectar and ambrosia contained in the Moon are gathered together. The gods, O Maitreya, who subsist upon this nectar, drink of it and thereby attain their immortality. Indeed, thirty-three thousand and thirty-three hundred, and again thirty-three gods partake of the Moon’s essence, drawing their strength from the lord of the night. As the Moon wanes and only two kalās remain, it enters the orb of the Sun, dwelling in the ray known as Amākhyā, and thus the new moon is remembered and marked. During the waxing and waning of the Moon, it first enters the waters, then dwells within the plants, and afterward gradually proceeds to the Sun. Therefore, one who cuts plants or even drops a single leaf while the Moon is present in the plants incurs the grave sin of killing a Brahmin, so sacred is this cycle. When but a small portion remains—just the fifteenth part of the Moon—at the afternoon hour, the hosts of ancestors worship the lowest portion that remains. The two remaining kalās, pure nectar and ambrosia, are then consumed by the ancestors, bringing them satisfaction. This nectar and ambrosia, released from the Moon’s rays at the time of the new moon, grant the ancestors supreme contentment for an entire month. The Saumyas, Barhishads, and Agniṣvāttas—all three classes of ancestors—are thus nourished and made content. In this way, during the bright fortnight the gods are nourished, and in the dark fortnight the ancestors, both drawing sustenance from the plants imbued with the Moon’s nectar-filled, cool, and subtle particles. The Moon, through the production of plants and herbs, nourishes not only the gods and ancestors but also humans, cattle, and insects, bestowing upon them brightness and delight. The chariot of the Moon’s son is fashioned from wind, fire, and material elements, drawn by eight tawny horses, swift as the wind itself. The chariots of the other planets are also wondrously arrayed. Venus rides in a great chariot adorned with banners and attendants, equipped with a canopy and yoke, and drawn by eight horses born of the earth. Mars travels in a splendid golden chariot yoked with eight ruby-red horses born of fire. Jupiter’s golden chariot, drawn by eight white horses, moves majestically at the end of the rainy season, passing from sign to sign. Saturn’s chariot is yoked with dappled horses born of the sky, and Saturn himself, the slow-moving planet, journeys at a measured pace. The chariot of Svarbhānu is carried by eight gray horses, their color like bees, always yoked together and moving without interruption. Rāhu, released from the Sun, approaches the Moon at the junctions, and then returns to the Sun again at the solar junctions. In the same way, Ketu’s chariot is drawn by eight horses, swift as the wind, their appearance like chaff-smoke and reddish as lac-dye. Thus, O fortunate one, I have described to you the nine chariots of the planets. All are bound to the Pole Star by reins of wind, and the abodes of the planets, stars, and constellations are all fastened to the Pole Star, revolving in their ordained courses, drawn by the rays of the wind. As many as there are stars, so many are the rays of wind, all bound to the Pole Star. As they revolve, they cause the Pole Star itself to turn, just as drops of oil cause a wheel to spin. In this way, all the luminaries, driven by the wind, complete their revolutions. Indeed, like the turning of a wheel of firebrands, the luminaries move, set in motion by the wheel of wind called Pravaha, for it is the wind that carries the stars and planets. That place, known as Śiśumāra, is where the Pole Star stands. Hear now its arrangement, O best of sages. Whatever sins one may commit by day are released upon seeing the Śiśumāra at night, and for as many stars as are found in its form in the sky, for that many years and even more does one live. Below it is Uttānapāda, known as the lower jaw; Yajña is the lower part, and Dharma is established at the head. Nārāyaṇa abides in the heart, the Aśvins at the forefeet, Varuṇa and Aryaman at the hind thighs. The year is its phallus, and Mitra is established at the anus. At the tail are Agni and Mahendra, then Kaśyapa, and then Dhruva—the four stars of the Śiśumāra never set. Thus, the arrangement of the earth, the luminaries, the continents, the oceans, and the mountains has been described. The forms of the regions, the rivers, and all who dwell within them have also been declared. Now, hear a summary once more. From the cosmic form of Viṣṇu arose the earth, lotus-shaped, together with its mountains, oceans, and all else. The luminaries are Viṣṇu, the worlds are Viṣṇu, the forests, the mountains, the directions, the rivers, and the oceans—whatever exists or does not exist, O best of Brahmins, is none other than He. The Blessed Lord is of the nature of pure knowledge; he is not of material form, nor a substance as we commonly understand. Therefore, all distinctions—mountains, oceans, and the rest—are but manifestations of knowledge. When, at the exhaustion of actions, knowledge becomes pure and free from all defects, true to its own nature, then, like the fruits of a wish-fulfilling tree, distinctions among objects cease to arise. Is there any substance anywhere that is without beginning, middle, or end, that always remains the same? O twice-born, if something changes into something else and does not remain as it was, how can its true nature be established? Earth becomes a pot, the pot becomes shards, the shards become dust, and from dust, atoms arise. People, limited by their own understanding and shaped by their actions, perceive these distinctions. Tell me, what is the true substance here? Thus, the mystery of the cosmos and the unity underlying all things is revealed.