Beloved one, wherever there is imagination, there too the mind abides; imagination and mind are never apart from each other. Whatever appears before you—whether you deem it real or unreal—know that all of it is nothing but the mind itself. This, O Brahma, is the fundamental truth. The subtle body is what is called the mind, while the intellect, when joined with the physical body, is enduring and steady. The wise say that ignorance, transmigration, mind, bondage, impurity, and darkness are but different names for what is perceived. In fact, apart from what is perceived, there is no form of the mind at all; and this perceived world is itself a product of mind—this I shall explain once again. Just as within a tiny lotus seed the entire lotus blossom is hidden, so too, within the great atom of consciousness, this entire perceived world is contained. As light is the radiance of illumination, as movement belongs to wind, as liquidity is to water, and visibility to the seer—so too are these qualities rooted in the seer. Consider: just as the form of a bracelet is nothing but gold, as water in a mirage is not truly water, and as the wall in a dream city is not a real wall, so is the perception of the seen rooted in the seer. Thus, the appearance of the seen in the seer—as if it were something other than the seer—I swiftly erase, like wiping away a stain, by showing you the mirror of your own mind. When, due to the absence of the seen, the seer ceases to be a seer, know that to be the state of pure being—embracing both existence and non-existence. In that state, the tendencies of attraction and aversion subside, just as the motion of wind ceases when the air is still. When nothing at all exists—when all is of the nature of space, direction, and earth—what form could the pure radiance of illumination possibly take? When the seen—the three worlds, you, and I—has vanished into non-existence, then the seer attains the state of pure being; this is the immaculate nature of the Self. Just as a mirror remains only a mirror, undisturbed by the infinite reflections of mountains and all things within it, so too is the true nature of the pure Self. When the confusion of the seen—such as 'I', 'you', and 'the world'—is pacified, pure oneness arises, established in the seer who no longer observes. If this confusion does not subside, then nonexistence does not pertain to what exists; nor do we truly know nonbeing in the visible world, which thus brings about error and suffering. Therefore, O Brahman, how can this fever of perception be calmed—a fever that does not cease, that gives rise to delusion and an endless succession of suffering? Hear, then, this mantra, O Rama, for the pacification of this demon of perception, by which it will utterly perish and be destroyed. Whatever exists, O Raghava, its destruction is certain; yet, even when it is destroyed, its seed may remain hidden within the heart. The seed of memory, arising once more in the space of consciousness, gives rise to the notion of the seen, which—though insubstantial—spreads the fault in the form of world, mountain, and sky. Thus, the fault of non-liberation persists, leaving no trace of its absence. For this reason, divine sages and seers are regarded as vessels of liberation. If this world and its beginning truly existed, then liberation would be impossible for anyone; whether the seen is external or internal, it exists only to be destroyed. Therefore, O Rama, listen to this formidable assertion, by which, through the following teaching, you will surely come to understanding. This so-called 'I', which seems to have the form of space and the elements, and the word 'world'—in truth, neither has any real substance at all. Whatever is seen here, any array of appearances before you, all that is truly the one Brahman alone—ageless, immortal, and unchanging. From fullness, fullness arises; in peace, supreme peace abides; in space alone, space appears; Brahman stands established in Brahman. There is no object seen, nor seer, nor act of seeing; neither void, nor inert, nor conscious—only this peace is spread everywhere. Consider the impossible: a mountain is ground by the son of a barren woman; a rabbit’s horn is measured; a rock, stretching out its arms, dances the Tāṇḍava. Grains of sand flow with oil; stones’ daughters recite scriptures; painted clouds thunder—such, O Lord, are these words. This world, said to be made of the sky of old age, death, and suffering—why do you and I even speak of it as existent? Just as this universe is neither established, nor arisen, nor truly existent, so, O Brahman, tell me in such a way that this may be determined. I am not endowed with speech; yet listen, O Raghava, as I explain: just as this appears unreal, like the son of a barren woman in a desert. In the beginning, this was not produced; therefore, there is nothing at all. This appears in the mind, like a city in a dream. Indeed, the mind at the beginning of creation is unproduced, with an unreal form. Thus, listen as I explain how this is experienced. The mind, composed of perceptions, generates this fault of decay; it is unreal, with the appearance of unreality, like one dream within another. That mind, by its own freedom, swiftly imagines the body; by this, the splendor of this magic is spread out and extended. It flashes, moves, dances, begs, becomes, sinks, withdraws by itself; it even attains immortality, yet only fluctuates by its own restless power—such is the mind. At this point, Rama inquires: “O Lord, tiger among sages, what is this confusion of the mind here? How does it exist, how is the mind produced, and from where does this mind made of illusion arise? O Lord, please briefly tell me about the origin at the beginning; afterwards, you will explain the rest, O best among those who speak.” Then the sage replies: “When the great dissolution arrives and non-being prevails, at the start of creation, only peacefulness remains, with all appearances gone.