Sons, wives, and families—these relationships spread out across life like an intricate web, yet they lack any true spiritual essence, for they are spun by that most difficult of enemies: the ego. It is this sense of “I am” that binds one so tightly. But when that notion of “I am” is entirely wiped away, in that very moment, all the afflictions and miseries that plague the heart are also truly eradicated. When the vast ocean of ego becomes calm—utterly tranquil—the fog of confusion that clouds the mind begins to lift and gradually disappears. Now, finding myself free from the grip of ego, yet still languishing in ignorance and sorrow, I turn to you, O sage, and humbly ask: please instruct me in whatever way you see fit. I do not seek refuge in that impermanent inner dwelling, the seat of misfortune, which is unsteady and lacks the highest virtue. O great one, I yearn for your guidance, for I remain caught in the painful state of ego-identity. The mind, worn thin by its many faults, remains restless and unsteady, even when engaged in noble deeds or honored by the virtuous. It is as fickle as a feather blown by the wind. Greatly agitated, it runs here and there in vain, growing ever more distant and dejected, like a villager lost in a foreign town. Even when it acquires great wealth, it gains nothing of substance; fulfillment remains out of reach, like trying to fill a basket with water. Always empty, ensnared by the net of desires, the mind never finds satisfaction, much like a deer separated from its herd. Its nature is as fleeting as the waves, battered by afflictions; having abandoned peace, it cannot find contentment, not even for a moment. Thoughts churn the mind in all directions, like the ocean lashed by Mount Mandara. I find myself unable to restrain this vast ocean of delusion within, teeming with waves, whirlpools, and the crocodiles of illusion. The mind, ever craving the tender shoots of enjoyment, pays no heed to the dangers ahead and runs far away, like a deer heedless of the pit before it. My mind, with its restless activity, never ceases to be plucked and scattered, just as the ocean never ceases its agitation. Stirred by countless thoughts, the mind binds its intentions in many places, like a lion trapped in a cage. Mounted on the chariot of delusion, it steals away the fleeting happiness of the body, just as a swan extracts milk from water. Hidden in the small bed of endless imagination, the movements of the mind remain dormant, and so, O chief of sages, I am left afflicted and disturbed. Bound tightly by the knots of thirst within, I am ensnared by my mind like a bird caught in a net. The constant smoke of anger and the flames of anxiety burn me, O sage, just as dry grass is consumed by fire. Led by cruel craving, I have become dull and lifeless, like a corpse devoured by a jackal—consumed by my own mind. With a mind unsteady and inert, tossed by waves, I have been carried away like a riverside tree swept off by the current. My mind, empty and restless, has cast me far away, like a blade of grass swept up by a fierce wind. Though I always long to cross the ocean of worldly existence, my impure mind blocks my way, like a flood held back by a dam. Just as one descending into the netherworld is bound from behind by another, so too am I encircled by my mind, like a log in a well bound by a rope. My mind, inflated by false importance and sharpened by endless reasoning, has seized me like a goblin snatching a child. O Brahman, it is hotter than fire, more difficult to overcome than a mountain, harder than a diamond, and fiercely uncontrollable. The mind leaps upon objects of action like a bird upon bait, only to withdraw in an instant, like a child abandoning a toy. O Father, the mind is by nature dull yet restless, swirling in great patterns like a sea full of serpents, and it carries me far away. O noble one, drinking up the great oceans, leaping over Mount Sumeru, even eating fire—these feats are easier than mastering the mind. The mind is the cause of all things; when it exists, the three worlds exist. When it dissolves, the world dissolves. Therefore, it must be treated with the utmost care. Surely, from the mind arise hundreds of joys and sorrows, just as forests spring from fertile ground. When, through discernment, the mind is thinned, these surely subside, O sage. Here I stand, hoping to conquer all qualities, having arisen to conquer that great enemy—the mind. With my inner agitation gone, I find no delight in fortune, which is vast, inert, and impure, like clouds that only obscure the moon. In the sky of consciousness, during the night of inner darkness, relentless thirst moves about as rows of birds of fault. The burning pain within, thoroughly matured, dries me up with anxiety, like mud baked by the blazing sun. In the great forest of my mind, thick with the darkness of delusion, the demon of hope, intoxicated, wildly dances in the emptiness. A mist woven of restless energy, shining with golden hues, blossoms into anxiety within me, like the clusters of the ashoka flower. Enough of this inner confusion! This craving, which devours all intentions, has arisen with a poisonous delight, swelling like a wave in the ocean. It surges with the tumult of powerful waves, flowing down the mountain of my body; this river of craving, full of restless waves, moves with ever-changing forms. Whenever I try to restrain its force, it is like dry grass before a storm; my mind, like the chataka bird, is carried away by impure thoughts. Whatever noble quality or virtue I attempt to embrace, craving cuts it down, just as a mouse severs the strings of a lute.