From the seed of past actions, an embryo takes birth in this world. According to the deeds of previous lives, the child is born, sometimes fortunate, sometimes not, and may possess a form that is charming to behold. As time passes, the child grows into youth, drawn by the force of passion. Yet, inevitably, like the gentle frost settling upon the radiant face of a lotus, old age arrives and dims that youthful glow. After youth and age, disease and death come, and the being falls into the swoon of dying. Then, as if in a dream, the soul assumes yet another body, woven again from the elements. Once more, it journeys to the realm of Yama, the Lord of Death, and is drawn back into the endless wandering of existence. Again and again, the soul experiences life in various forms, at times taking on a subtle body that seems to float in the sky, composed of space itself. O Devi, just as delusion arises at the dawn of creation, so too, by your grace, may you tell again the way of things, so that understanding may grow. For truly, the mountains, the trees, the earth, and the sky—all are of the essence of the highest reality. Since the Lord-Consciousness is the very Self of all, whatever emerges from Him is pure, as pure as the supreme space itself; nothing more is needed. At the beginning of creation, the first creator appeared, shining forth like a figure in a dream, and that luminous state persists even now. From that primal reflection, all objects take their prototype, and whatever is reflected from it remains established to this day. Within all bodies, there is a hollow space into which air enters and stirs the movement of limbs; thus, life is present. Even at the dawn of creation, this very arrangement was set among moving beings. Though the underlying consciousness is unmoving, because of its presence, trees and the like exist as they are. The space of consciousness itself awakens a portion within, and that becomes awareness; all else is not truly that. If a person is aware only of the tip of his hoof or the edge of his eyelid, but not of the eye itself, then for him, the life of the eye is absent—it does not truly live. In the same way, space is perceived as space, earth as earth, water as water, each according to how it is conceived. Whatever is thought of in a certain way, that alone is known in that form. Thus, the one who contemplates all bodies as moving, by the very nature of movement, and the unmoving as unmoving, remains established as the Self of all. Therefore, whatever is called 'moving' truly exists as such, having assumed that form; being known as such, it remains so even now. Whatever is called 'inert' and is not known, that is the unmoving—like stones, trees, and grass—know these to be inert. Yet, in truth, there is no separate existence of inertness or consciousness; at the beginning of creation, there is no distinction, for all share the same substratum of existence. The names that exist within trees and stones are only their own inner awareness; their being is established only by the presence of intellect and such faculties. The intellect and other faculties within the interior of the unmoving—these are simply other names, referring to different things, established by various conventions. For worms, insects, and flying creatures, their inner awareness is their only reality; their intellect and other faculties serve merely to distinguish them by name. Just as the people living by the eastern ocean know nothing of those by the southern ocean except through their own awareness, so too, all stationary and moving beings are absorbed in their own self-awareness, mutually insensible, each devoted to its own sphere of perception. Stones are unaware of those outside themselves, and frogs, being insentient, are mutually unaware of each other within their own confines. In all this, whatever is known as mind, pervading all, is revealed by the space of consciousness. Just as wind was present at the beginning of creation, so it remains now. What is recognized as emptiness is space, and within it, wind abides; being of the nature of vibration and motion, wind is called the great element among objects. But mind, in its highest sense, abides in both the immobile and the mobile; its manifestations arise and cease only through the winds. Thus, this world, full of delusion, is composed of objects that are rays of consciousness; just as they were at the beginning of creation, so they remain even now. The essential nature of all things in the world appears real, but in truth, it is unreal—this has now been explained. Behold, King Viduratha, the lord of the garland-like lotus, is at the threshold of death; he is entering the secret chamber of your heart. By which path, O goddess of the gods, do these two go to the funeral ground? Let us quickly observe this very one and proceed to the highest. He proceeds along the path shaped by the residue of his human tendencies, thinking, "I am going to another world, far away," his mind formed of pure consciousness. By whatever path one travels, it is agreed that it is only by one's own latent tendencies; mutual desire and awareness are not truly bonds of affection. Thus, as the discourse unfolded, bringing about the cessation of stories, and as the supreme vision spread forth in the light of awakening, the noble-minded Viduratha, freed from delusion, became as if lifeless before the princess. Meanwhile, the king, his eyes turning upward, seemed to have his life merged into one; at once, his lips grew dry and pale. His complexion resembled withered leaves, his face became pale and emaciated, and his breath, like the hum of bees, emerged unevenly from his chest. His intent fell into the deep pit of the great swoon of death, all his senses—eyes and others—completely withdrawn within. He appeared like a painted figure, visible only in form, devoid of consciousness, motionless in every limb, as if cast upon a stone. What more can be said? Through the region of his palate, his life-breath departed, like a swift-winged bird leaving a tree for the sky. With divine vision, the two maidens beheld the vital being—composed of life-breath and awareness—rising into the sky, like a trace of fragrance carried by the wind.