They withdrew to their place of meditation and stood utterly still, as if transformed into statues carved from a bejeweled pillar, or painted upon the walls of a lavish palace. In that sacred stillness, all anxieties and self-restraint fell away; a deep tranquility blossomed within them, as lotus buds open at dusk, releasing their gentle fragrance into the air. As serenity deepened, they became completely pure and unmoving, like an autumn mountain untouched by wind, veiled only by clouds after rain. Immersed in the non-dual samadhi, their awareness dissolved into the vastness, just as a wish-fulfilling vine in spring gives up its sap, flowing freely. In that state, the mistaken sense of “I am the world” did not arise at the root of perception; both had realized their true nature as absolute non-being. Thus, the phantom of perception vanished for them—it was as unreal as the horn of a hare, as if it had never existed. That which is absent at the beginning is absent in the present; what appears is truly unmanifest. The world, then, is like water shimmering in a mirage. Their very nature became pure peace. The two women seemed released far beyond the multitude of objects—moon, sun, and planets—as if they had become the boundless sky itself. With the body of knowledge, the goddess of understanding crossed over; the human woman, by her own body, swiftly moved according to her knowledge and ignorance. Within the house, ascending just a hand’s breadth of space, they became forms of consciousness itself, shaped like those who move freely in the sky. O playful one, delight of play, with charming eyes—by the very nature of mental awareness, it seemed as though you soared into the sky, however distant it appeared. There you stood, focused in single-pointed thought, and leapt into the sky’s expanse—an immeasurable distance, stretching for millions of yojanas, farther and farther. Even in their sky-formed bodies, by the inherent nature of perceiving objects, they saw each other’s forms and became close companions, devoted to affection. Together, they leapt from one far place to another, ascending higher, hand joined with hand, moving onward and beholding the sky. It appeared before them as a single, vast ocean—deep, pure within, gentle, and offering the soft enjoyment of a delicate breeze. Immersed in these waters of emptiness, they found exquisite delight—serene, entirely pure and profound, clear as a noble soul. In regions where pure water rested atop peaks, in abodes of radiant clarity like the full moon, their hopes were fulfilled and they found rest. In the gentle wind, fragrant with garlands of siddhas and gandharvas, wafting from the moon’s orb, they delighted together. They bathed at the end of great heat in a lake filled with red lotuses and slow-moving water, shaded by a veil of clouds. Across the earth’s gardens, mountain peaks, and countless lotus stalks, the two wandered everywhere, like bees moving among ponds. Their minds dwelt on streams; they enjoyed the shelter of waterfalls and the domes of clouds stirred by the wind. When they grew weary from their own energy, the sweet lovers gazed upon the vast, tranquil sky—empty, immense, and serene. They beheld, as never before, the deep recesses within each other—spaces filled yet unemptied, even by hundreds of worlds. Above, layer upon layer, the sky was covered by strange veils: forms of the elements, clouds, and celestial palaces, each separate and wondrous. All around, the sky was filled with the peaks of Meru and other mountains, shining with the glow of lotus gems, resembling the heart of a cosmic flame. The Himalayas’ pearl-crested summits radiated beauty; golden plateaus gleamed, illuminating the golden land. The brilliance of great emeralds colored the grassy plains; darkness arose only from the fading sight of the observer, born of the absence of true vision. The sky was adorned with clusters of pārijāta creepers and celestial palaces; its beryl surface seemed to bloom with the flowers of awakening. It was traversed by the swift movement of the mind and the powers of great siddhas, filled with the sounds of music and songs sung by divine women in their aerial mansions. Rarely did beings from the three worlds cross its vast expanse, yet it teemed with clans of gods and demons, each moving unseen by the others. At its borders dwelled circles of kumbhāṇḍas, rākṣasas, and guhyakas; flocks of aerial beings were carried swiftly by powerful winds. The sky resounded with the clamor of moving aerial palaces and the thunderous noise that could be grasped in the fist, its machinery stirred by the movement of planets and stars. It was a place abandoned by those of little accomplishment, scorched by the sun’s rays; its innocent aerial palaces were burned by the wind from the sun’s horse’s mouth. Restless with the passage of the guardians of the worlds and apsaras, the sky was shrouded in clouds of incense smoke from the burnt chambers of divine women. Ornaments of celestial women lay scattered, seized by birds, and its own radiance was diminished—a place where the powers of accomplished beings mingled, yet its strength was depleted. Through the forceful collisions and dispersals among groups of accomplished beings, dense clouds near the silken slopes of the Himalaya, Meru, and Mandara mountains were scattered. It was surrounded by flocks of restless crows, owls, and vultures, gathered and dancing like ocean waves, along with bands of female spirits. Bands of yoginis with faces like dogs, crows, camels, and donkeys danced wildly, roaming hundreds of yojanas without aim, coming and going as they pleased. It was a palace of clouds, filled with incense smoke rising before the guardians of the worlds, where pairs of accomplished beings and gandharvas began their festive unions. The path was overtaken by khadira trees, intoxicated by celestial songs, and was constantly alive with countless birds dwelling in their nests.