Listen, O Rama, to the secret of the supreme reality. Wherever there arises the triad of the known, the knowing, and the knower, and wherever it subsides, that alone is the highest and the most exalted. That which reflects the known, the knowing, and the knower—like a great mirror untouched by the mind or any such thing—is called the supreme form. Whatever form of the great consciousness is untouched by mind, free from the six senses and all their tendencies, whether it appears in moving or unmoving beings, that alone remains at the end of creation. If the form of the unmoving is indeed made of pure consciousness, untainted by mind, intellect, and the rest, then it is equal to the supreme. In the peace of Brahma, the Sun, Vishnu, Hara, Indra, Sadashiva, and others, it is this one supreme Shiva who alone abides; all else is but designation—indestructible, untroubled, desired, mixed or unmixed, subtle, the support of all that is supported. O Brahman, you ask: this radiant world, with all its forms and names—where does it go when the great dissolution arrives? From where does it come, and of what kind is it? Where does the son of a barren woman go? Where does the forest in the sky arise, and where does it vanish? Hear this well. The son of a barren woman and the forest in the sky never exist, nor will they ever exist. What visibility can they have, and what sort of non-existence belongs to them? Just as there are never forests in the sky of a barren woman's son, so too, the entire visible world never truly exists. That which never existed at the beginning is neither produced nor destroyed; how then can one speak of its origin or destruction? The imagined tree in the sky of a barren woman's son exists only as a notion; just as it has no birth or destruction, so too is this world. Try, if you will, to braid the wind with the hair of a blossoming flower—such speech is empty, and so too is the existence of this world. Just as a golden bracelet is clearly seen, yet there is no 'bracelet-ness' apart from the gold, so too, 'world-ness' is nothing apart from the Supreme. Just as there is no distinct emptiness in space, so in Brahman there is no real 'world-ness,' even for one who perceives it. Blackness does not come from lampblack, nor coldness from snow—so too, when rightly understood, the world does not exist in the Supreme State. Just as the coolness of the moon is not separate from the moon itself, creation does not exist as something distinct from Brahman. There is no water in a mirage, nor moonlight in a second moon—so too, this world does not truly exist, even when it appears, in the pure Self. The light of awareness, as the eye of consciousness, shines in the sky of awareness; in the pure space called 'the world,' it appears like a string of pearls revealed to sight. In the space of consciousness, that which shines as consciousness itself is perceived by itself as its own form, and this is what is understood as 'the world.' That which does not exist at the beginning—because there is no cause for it—does not exist even now; how could destruction occur for such a thing? How could inertness, arising from non-origination, become the cause of inert objects like earth and so on? It would be like sunlight being the cause of a shadow. Because there is no cause, no effect has ever been declared here; whatever is the cause alone exists, and remains established in that way. Whatever appears as unborn is only the radiance of consciousness; whatever world is seen in a dream is nothing but the shining of consciousness. The shining of consciousness within is just like the illusion of a dream-world; at the beginning of creation, in Brahman, the shining of the world is spread out in the same way. Whatever is seen here is truly established in the Self; the world neither sets nor rises at any time. Just as liquidity belongs to water, motion to wind, and radiance to light, so Brahman alone is the essence of the three worlds. As a city appears within, like a deity in the awareness of a dream, so the world seems to shine forth, but it is one's own Self in the Supreme Self. If this is so, you may ask, how can the firm conviction of reality arise? This visible world has arisen like an unreal experience in a dream. When the seen exists, there is a seer; when the seer exists, there is something seen. Bondage arises from the existence of both; liberation comes when either one ceases. As long as the object is not utterly impossible and the mind does not abandon it, the state of non-seership in the seer cannot arise, nor can it grant liberation. If the object first arises and later perishes, then due to the memory of the object, the bondage—which is of the nature of useless recollection—does not cease. Wherever the mind is established, like its own reflection in a mirror, a reflection arises; this is indeed the memory of creation. In the beginning, the perceived world does not arise; if it does not exist by itself, then, due to the absence of the illusion of seer and seen, liberation is attained. Therefore, O best among knowers of the Self, dispel for me, through reasoning, the notion of impossible liberation, and speak of the utter impossibility of the perceived world. Just as the world, consisting of creation, appears though it is unreal, so too, O Rama, listen as I explain this to you at length. Until this is fully described by words of decisive teaching, the dust in your heart will not settle, just as silt does not settle in a lake. When you realize the absolute nonexistence of this illusion of world-creation, you will act in the world established in the one-pointedness of meditation. The appearances of existence and nonexistence, grasping and letting go, gross and subtle, moving and unmoving, will strike at you, but will not pierce you, as arrows cannot pierce a great mountain. There is indeed only this one Self; there is no second, even as a notion. I will explain to you, O Raghava, how this world appears here. Therefore, O dear one, that great Self alone manifests all these things; being the abode of the light of perception, thought, and mind, it itself arises and subsides in all forms.