In the world of living beings, from worms and insects to creatures that fly, their inner awareness is the only reality they know. Their intellect and other faculties merely serve to distinguish them by name, but their true experience is rooted in their own consciousness. Just as the people who dwell by the eastern ocean are unaware of those living by the southern ocean, except through their own awareness, so too are all beings—whether stationary or moving—absorbed in their own self-awareness. Each exists in its own sphere of perception, mutually insensible to the existence of others. Stones, for instance, are unaware of those outside themselves, and frogs, being insentient, are equally oblivious to one another within their own confines. In this realm, whatever is known as 'mind' pervades all and is revealed by the space of consciousness. Just as wind was present at the dawn of creation, so it remains even now, moving within the emptiness that is space. Wind, with its nature of vibration, is called the great element among objects, and it exists within space. Yet, mind in its highest sense abides in both the immobile and the mobile, its manifestations arising and ceasing 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; so has this been explained. At this moment, King Viduratha, the lord of the garland-like lotus, is nearly departed; he is entering the secret chamber of your heart. The question arises: by which path do these two—King Viduratha and the awareness—go to the funeral pavilion? Let us quickly observe this very one and proceed to the highest. He proceeds along the path that lies within the residue of human tendencies, thinking, "I am going to another world, far away," his mind made of consciousness. By whatever path one travels, it is always guided by one's own latent tendencies; mutual desire and awareness are not truly bonds of affection. As the discourse unfolded, bringing about the cessation of stories and spreading the supreme vision in the light of awakening, the noble-minded Viduratha, freed from delusion, became as if lifeless before the princess. Meanwhile, the king, with his eyes turned upward, seemed as if his life had merged into one; his lips turned dry and white. His complexion resembled withered leaves, his face pale and emaciated, and his breath, like the hum of bees, came forth unevenly from his chest. His intent had fallen into the deep pit of the great swoon of death, with all the activities of his senses—eyes and others—withdrawn completely 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 need be said? Through the region of the palate, his life-breath departed, like a well-winged bird leaving a tree for the sky. With divine vision, the two maidens saw the vital being—composed of life-breath and awareness—rising into the sky, like a trace of fragrance in the wind. That living awareness, carried by the wind of space, began to travel far through the sky, following the momentum of its own tendencies. The two women followed that living awareness, just as a pair of bees pursue a wisp of fragrance borne on the wind. After a brief moment, when the swoon of death had subsided, that awareness regained consciousness in the intermediate state, like a streak of scent stirred by the breeze. He saw the servants of Yama and his own body being carried away by them, while his relatives performed the funeral rites for the body that had belonged to him. On the path where the fruits of actions shine from afar, he set forth, unstoppable, to reach the city of Vaivasvata. Having reached the city of Vaivasvata, it was declared: this one never has any impure actions at all. He is always the doer of pure deeds; by the boon of the blessed Sarasvati, he has been elevated. His previous body, now lifeless, lies clothed in flowers; let him enter it, go there, and abandon it—so was he instructed. Then, leaving it, he soared along the sky-path like a machine-propelled stone; and the three—life-force, play, and knowledge—entered the sky. The thread of life soared; these two, being formless, are not seen, but they followed him, surpassing the expanse of the sky. Passing beyond other worlds and departing from the house of the universe, they reached a second world and entered the earth-circle. There, with the wish-formed beloved united with the thread of life, they reached Padmaraja's city and the inner pavilion of Lila. In an instant, they entered freely, as wind enters the sky, as sunlight enters a lotus, as fragrance enters the air. O Brahman, how did he arrive at the house near the corpse? How did he discern the path of the one whose body had died? Raghava, whatever is established within his own tendencies must certainly be there; therefore, all of that resides in the heart—how did he attain it in a month? This immeasurable confusion exists within the atom of life in the world, just as a banyan tree exists within its seed—who does not see this? The atomic consciousness, which is its own nature, contains the three worlds; just as a person situated in one place perceives something located far away. He always perceives his own treasure through the mind, ceaselessly; just as a living body perceives the living soul in the heart as its reflection. In the same way, the soul perceives its desired object established within its own tendencies, whether it is endowed with hundreds of births or caught in delusion. O Lord, what form does the body take when it is devoid of the tendency for offerings such as piṇḍa? For whom is the piṇḍa not given?