Within the vast expanse of pure consciousness, a small particle of light arises, contemplating itself and thinking, “I am this.” Through its own reflection, it imagines itself as elevated, as if established in the limitless sky of the self. What is truly unreal assumes the appearance of reality—just as the moon seems to shine in the sky by mere thought. By contemplating itself, this light remains both the observer and the observed, becoming dual from unity, much like the experiences in dreams or the awareness at the moment of death. Gradually, this particle of light takes on a slight solidity and perceives itself as a star. The meaning of its existence arises according to the manner of its contemplation, shaped by the nature of consciousness itself. The soul, which is always nothing but space, thinks, “I am this,” and through its consciousness, it assumes a sense of individuality—just as one becomes a traveler in a dream. By imagining itself as a star-like form—what is called the contemplated body—it becomes that very state, for the mind takes on the nature of whatever it perceives. Having seemingly abandoned the external, it shines inwardly within the core of the star, though it remains outside, like a mountain reflected in a mirror. Just as a body may be situated deep within a well or emerge outside, so awareness in dream and imagination knows this; similarly, the individual soul perceives itself even within the tiniest atom. Residing in the hard, star-like essence, the soul acts by itself. This is the stream of knowledge, taking the form of intellect, mind, and other faculties. From there, the space of the soul, contained within the star-like sheath, extends outward with the notion, “I observe,” as if reaching out to see in the sky. Through two apertures, it projects what will be called the external world; that which sees will later be named the pair of eyes. That which touches is called skin; that which hears is called hearing; that which smells is called nose. In this way, the soul perceives itself within itself. That which tastes will later be known as tongue; that which moves is the activity of air, the group of action organs. Contemplating that all forms, light, and mental creations arise in this manner, the embodied being of the subtle body remains in space within space. Thus, contemplating the expansion of the particle of light, Brahman abides, bearing the name “individual soul,” appearing unreal yet resembling reality. Having entered into the confusion of conceptualizing the meaning of “jīva,” the soul assumes the nature of a subtle body, with mind and body as its garment. By its own imagination, it perceives a form situated within the cosmic egg; some see it as being in water, others as having the form of a universal sovereign. The soul sees and even experiences the projection of a future cosmos, as one whose own nature is imagined by the mind, just as the womb-house of the self. It perceives the conceptualization of space, time, action, and substance; contemplating thus, it becomes the creator of words, binding itself with imagined words. This subtle body, in the illusion of the unreal world, moves about only in unreality, just as one soars in dreams. Though not truly arisen, the soul appears as self-born—the subtle-body self, the lord, the original progenitor. Even when this illusion, which takes the form of the cosmic egg, is accomplished, nothing at all is truly accomplished; nothing is born or seen. Brahman-space remains as pure space, unshaken; this city of imagination, though it seems to exist, is not truly real. This wondrous display has arisen in the sky—uncreated and without form; it is neither made nor experienced, not true, yet it appears as if it were real. In the great cycle, when Brahma and others attain liberation, no previous memory remains; the cause belongs to the self-born. Whatever the self-born is like, so too is this memory produced from it; thus, the beginningless experience exists in this way, along with earth and other elements. Just as earth and other elements experienced in a dream appear upon awakening, so too is the world always remembered as having the nature of pure space. Wherever and however the property of fluidity exists in water, in the same way, there is no other creation in the Supreme Self. Thus, this creation is established, and this manifestation remains; what is called the universe shines forth, yet it is only the nature of space, without any actual creation. This visible world is peaceful, having the nature of space—without division or confusion, without support or placement, nondual and free from any unity. Even when awareness of the world arises, nothing is truly born; the supreme space remains unvoid, clear, and firmly established. In that void of total dissolution, only that which is remains; there is no support, no supported, no object seen, nor any seer. There is no universe, no creator Brahma, nor any cosmic egg anywhere; there is no world, nor earth—the entirety abides in perfect stillness. Only Brahman moves, pure and clear, in this way—self within self, by its own nature; like water, fluid because of its essence, swirling within itself. This appears as unreal, yet is experienced as if real; in the end, the unreal perishes, just as death occurs in a dream. Or, due to its very nature as existence, this is truly real—free from affliction, undivided, without beginning or end, with knowledge alone as its vast expanse. Just as space itself, the supreme, the first lord of beings, always moves by its own nature, equal in its emptiness; for he has a subtle body, not a material one, and thus, when earth and the rest are not born, existence is not present. Thus, all that is seen—the world, ego, and so on—is nothing at all. Since it is unborn, it does not truly exist, and what does exist is only the supreme. That supreme space itself is what lives and is conscious in beings, just as water stirs within the unmoving womb of the ocean. The inner activity of consciousness appears as if it knows, without abandoning its sky-like nature, just as it seems visible within the mountain of dream and imagination. The body of the great cosmic self, which is devoid of earth and other elements, is merely a subtle vehicle, composed solely of pure consciousness and space.