In ancient times, a humble seeker stood among the wise sages, yearning for understanding, though he confessed his lack of wisdom. He asked them about the mystery of six spaces and the forms of the unborn, seeking to know which one among them was singular and supreme. He called upon anyone who knew the dwelling place of the beautiful one, whose head was milked by cows and whose feet were bathed by water brought by those cloaked beings. The tale continued: the mother, at the dawn of creation, shared the nectar with the father, joining him in mind. Pierced by the essence of the embryo, she bowed and went forth to utterance. The mother was yoked to the right-hand yoke, and the embryo stood within various wombs. The calf measured and followed the cows, perceiving the universal form across three distances. Bearing three mothers and three fathers, the one stood upright, with rims that never tired, conversing on the back of heaven and uttering speech that inspired all. A twelve-spoked wheel revolved eternally upon the sky of immortality; there, O Agni, stood the twin sons, seven hundred and twenty. The five-footed father, twelve-formed, dwelled in the farthest regions of heaven. The wise saw the upper realm established in the seven-wheeled, six-spoked structure. Upon the five-spoked wheel, all worlds rested; its axle, heated by the weight of ages, never broke, nor did its spokes. With a perpetual rim, the wheel turned, carried upright by ten harnessed beings. The eye of the sun was veiled by space, and within it all worlds were established. The sages spoke of seven sons born together—six nourished, one born alone. Born of the gods, their domains were set apart by their rites, and their forms shone forth in myriad ways. Though these were truly women, they were called men; one who looked might not see, but the wise son understood, becoming the father’s father. With one foot forward and one behind, the cow, bearing her calf, stood still. Of her own accord, she departed with half of something; none knew where she went, for she did not give birth within the herd. Who, then, knew the father of this cow—who was before, and who after? Who could declare the origin of the divine mind? Those near were said to be far, and those far were said to be near. Indra and Soma made these things; yoked like two horses, they carried the burden of the world. Two birds, united companions, clung to the same tree. One ate the sweet fruit, the other watched without eating. Where these birds, partaking of immortality, sang together with unblinking eyes, the wise one entered the fire and discerned the essence of all that exists. On the tree where the honey-yielding birds rested and all the gods dwelled, its foremost fruit was sweet. Yet, he who did not eat it did not know the father. What was established in the Gāyatrī was called Gāyatra; from Triṣṭubh came Triṣṭubha; what was set in Jagatī was called Jagatī. Those who knew these measures attained immortality. With the Gāyatrī meter, they measured the hymn; with Sāman, the chant; with Triṣṭubh, the speech. With speech, they measured speech; with two-footed and four-footed meter, they measured the seven voices. The Jagatī upheld the celestial river; in the midst of the chariot, they beheld the Sun. There were three kindlings of the Gāyatra, and from that greatness, greatness expanded. The seeker called upon the good-yielding cow, with gentle hands, who gave milk to the gods. He prayed to milk her, invoking the Ashvins and Savitṛ, declaring the best offering in the heated vessel. Lowing, the mistress of riches, desiring her calf, approached in mind. This unyoked cow, to be milked by the Ashvins, was wished to grow for great good fortune. The cow, following her calf who sought her, lowing with her head raised, approached. Longing for the heated vessel, she poured forth her milk, measuring out her life with her milk. The one who sprinkles is the one by whom the cow, surrounded, measures out her life, reaching the end of days. With her thoughts, she made the mortal; becoming lightning, she covered him with her garment. Uncovered, swift-moving, living, trembling, yet stable amid dwellings—the living one moved among the dead by his own law; the immortal united with the mortal. The seeker saw the herdsman, never resting, moving along paths both near and far. Clothed in sameness, moving together and apart, he spread himself within all worlds. He who made her did not know her; he who saw her, let him declare. Surrounded within the mother's womb, with many offspring, he entered into dissolution. Heaven was his father, the begetter, the navel here; the great earth was his mother and kin. Between these two outstretched bowls was the womb, where the father placed the embryo in the daughter. The seeker asked about the farthest end of the earth, the navel of the world, the seed of the vigorous horse, and the highest heaven of speech. The altar was the farthest end of the earth; the sacrifice was the navel of the world. Soma was the seed of the vigorous horse; Brahman was the highest heaven of speech. Seven who were half-born upheld the seed of the world, standing in the directions, established by Viṣṇu. With their thoughts, minds, and wisdom, they encompassed all things. The seeker confessed he did not know his true nature, hidden and bound, wandering with his mind. When the first-born of truth came to him, he obtained a share of speech. The immortal went away and came near, seized by his own nature, united in origin with the mortal. Ever diverging and separating, they recognized one and not the other. The verses were set in the imperishable highest heaven, where all the gods had taken their seat. He who did not know that—what could he do with the verse? But those who knew it gathered together. May the bountiful one be more bountiful through good pasture; may we too be fortunate. Eat the grass, O uninjurable one, giver of all things; drink the pure water as you move. Gaurī measured out the waters; she was one-footed, two-footed, four-footed. Becoming eight-footed, nine-footed, she became a thousand-syllabled in the highest heaven. From her, the oceans flowed forth; by that, the four directions lived. From that, the imperishable flowed; by that, all lived. Smoke was seen from afar, as if from a fire, with the wind blowing it to the farther and nearer sides. The heroes milked the spotted cow; those were the first ordinances. Three with braided hair were seen in due season; in the year, one was shorn. One, with his powers, beheld all; the other's form was not seen, though adorned. Speech was measured in four steps; the wise Brāhmaṇas understood them. Three were hidden in secrecy; men spoke only the fourth. Thus, the profound mysteries of existence, creation, and speech were revealed to the seeker through the wisdom of the sages, the symbols of cows, wheels, and birds, and the eternal union of mortal and immortal.