In the sacred vision of the Yajur Veda, the world is woven together by countless beings, each fulfilling a role that sustains the cosmic order. For the sake of light, there is the wood-gatherer; for brilliance, the fire-kindler; for the sacrificial offering, the sacrificer; for abundance, the server; for the attainment of the highest world, the attendant. To reach the world of the gods, the messenger acts; for the world of men, the announcer; for all worlds, the assistant. The return is guided by the one who grinds, intelligence is served by the cloth-bleacher, and desire finds its color through the dyer. Truth is guarded, paradoxically, by the thief at heart; enemies are overcome by the informer; discrimination is maintained by the steward; and supervision by the overseer. The child is cared for by the attendant, abundance is sought by the wanderer, affection is spoken sweetly, and safety ensured by the horse-tamer. The heavenly world is nourished by the milker, and again, the highest world by the attendant. To Wrath belongs the one who burns, to Anger the one who rushes forth, to Discipline the one who binds, and to Sorrow the one who pursues. Well-being is the one who releases, the wedge is three-pointed, Splendor is shaped by the mind, and Conduct is like the one who applies collyrium. Destruction is the sheath-maker, Restraint is the thread. Restraint, indeed, is the thread; the Atharvans are the protected ones. The Year is the revolving one, the Half-year is unborn, the Present Year passes away, the Past Year has departed. The Year is worn out, gray-haired. The Ṛbhus join skins, the Sādhyas stretch the hides. In the waters, the fisherman dwells; in stagnant pools, the one who stays; in marshes, the servant; in reed beds, the reed-cutter. On dry lands, the ferryman; at crossings, the boatman; at fords, the one who crosses. In difficult terrains, the miner; in resounding places, the leaf-blower; in caves, the hunter; on slopes, the crusher; in the mountains, the Kimpuruṣa. To the repulsive, the Paulkasa is given; to color, the goldsmith; to the scales, the merchant; to the late evening, the glāvin. To all beings, the ashen one; to prosperity, wakefulness; to adversity, sleep; to distress, the slanderer; to growth, the boaster; to conflict, the divider. To the king of dice belongs the gambler; to the winning throw, the newly-shown die; to the third and fourth throws, those who arrange. The one who leaps is the pillar in the assembly. Death is the cow-killer, the Ender is the cow-slayer, Hunger stands begging by the one who cuts the cow. Evil is the wandering teacher, Sin is the mountain-dweller. To echo, the shouter; to sound, the barker; to the end, the talkative one; to the endless, the mute. Noise is the drum-beater, greatness the lute-player, the wailer the flute-blower, the lower sound the conch-blower. The forest belongs to the forester, the other wilderness to the fire-maker. Jest is the courtesan, laughter the jester, the Yādava is the speckled one, the village has the accountant. The crier is theirs; greatness again is the lute-player; the hand-slayer is the flute-blower; to dance and joy, the cymbal-player. Agni is the fat one; Earth is the one who spreads the seat; Vāyu is the outcaste; the atmosphere is the bamboo-dancer; the sky is the digger; Sūrya is the tawny horse; the stars are insects; the Moon is the leprous; day is the white, tawny-eyed one; night is the black, tawny-eyed one. Among all beings, there are eight considered deformed: the excessively tall, short, stout, thin, white, black, bald, and hairy. These are not Śūdras nor Brāhmaṇas, but of Prajāpati. The Māgadha, the courtesan, the gambler, and the impotent are also not Śūdras nor Brāhmaṇas, but of Prajāpati. Above all stands the cosmic Person, the Purusha, with a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, a thousand feet. He pervades the earth in every direction, standing above it by ten fingers’ breadth. All that exists—past, present, and future—is truly this Person. He is the lord of immortality, which flourishes by food. Such is his vastness, yet the Person is greater still. All beings are but a quarter of him; three quarters remain immortal in heaven. Three quarters rose upwards, while one quarter was born here. From that, he spread in all directions, into what eats and what does not eat. From him was born Virāj, and from Virāj, the Person again. Having been born, he extended beyond, behind, and before the earth. From the sacrifice, offered wholly, clarified butter was gathered, and from it arose animals—those of the air, the forest, and the village. From this sacrifice were born the Ṛc and Sāman hymns, the meters, and the Yajus. Horses, creatures with two rows of teeth, cows, goats, and sheep all came forth from it. Upon sacred grass, the gods, Sādhyas, and seers sprinkled the sacrifice of the primordial Person. When the gods divided the Purusha, they asked: how many parts were made? What was his mouth, his arms, his thighs, his feet? The Brahman was his mouth; the Kshatriya his arms; the Vaishya his thighs; from his feet, the Shudra was born. The moon arose from his mind, the sun from his eyes, the wind and breath from his ears, and fire from his mouth. From his navel came the atmosphere; from his head, the heavens; from his feet, the earth; from his ears, the directions. Thus, the worlds were arranged. When the gods performed this sacrifice with the Purusha as the offering, spring became the clarified butter, summer the fuel, and autumn the oblation. Seven were the enclosing sticks, thrice seven the kindling sticks. In this first sacrifice, the gods bound the Purusha as the sacrificial animal. With sacrifice, the gods sacrificed the sacrifice itself; these were the earliest duties. Through this, they reached the heights of heaven, where the ancient Sādhyas, the gods, reside. From the waters, the essence of earth was gathered, and from that, the all-creator arose at the beginning. Tvashtar shaped his form, which became the divinity of mortals. The wise know this great Purusha, radiant like the sun, beyond all darkness. By knowing him alone, one transcends death—there is no other path to liberation. Prajapati moves within the womb, unborn yet born in many ways. The wise see his source; in him all worlds stand. Among the gods, he shines as their priest, born before them. Homage is offered to the radiant Brahman. The gods, generating the Brahman radiance at the beginning, declared: Whoever knows thus as Brahman, the gods are under his control. Sri and Lakshmi are his wives; day and night are at his sides; the stars are his form, and the Ashvins his mouth. May he grant us nourishment and mastery over all worlds. This divinity is fire, the sun, the wind, the moon; he is the bright one, Brahman, the waters, and Prajapati. All moments and flashes of lightning were born from the Purusha. None have grasped him above, across, or in the middle. He has no likeness; his name is Great Glory—Hiraṇyagarbha. His command is “Do not harm me.” From him, nothing is born; he alone is the source. This god moves in all directions, was born before all, is within the womb, is born, will be born, and faces all directions with countless faces. From whom nothing was born before, he became all the worlds. Prajapati, striving with offspring, associates with three lights and sixteen forms. It is by him that the mighty heaven and firm earth are supported, the sky held aloft, the vault of space established. He moves in the atmosphere as the sovereign of the shining dust. To which god shall we offer our oblation? He, whom the two crying ones—heaven and earth—upheld by his support, beheld with trembling minds as the sun rises and shines forth— to which god shall we offer our oblation? The waters, indeed, are vast. He is the one who is the waters. Thus, all the world, all beings, all forms and functions, the cycles of time, the castes and creatures, the heavens and the earths, the hymns and the sacrifices, and even the gods themselves, arise from and are sustained by that one supreme Person, the Purusha—beyond all, radiant, and eternal.