In the serene space of wisdom, knowledge and its object, both sharing the nature of vastness, are seen as one. The knower, like the sky, abides unbounded and untouched. This reality, devoid of earth and all elements, is nothing but the radiant light of consciousness, self-existent and uncreated. What appears to be accomplished by what is unaccomplished is neither dual nor truly accomplished—it is simply the play of awareness. Consciousness, in whatever way it strives, is mirrored by the external world; when released into the stream of creative awareness, it remains dormant until awakened by effort. The world itself is but a manifestation within the space of consciousness, arising in the pure Self, within the sky of awareness, down to the smallest atom. Thus, in this bewildering confusion, can we truly speak of reality, latent impressions, conditions, destiny, embodiment, or inevitability? All remains as it is seen—whole, undivided. It is māyā in the infinite, yet, in truth, there is no māyā at all. “O revered one,” says the seeker, “you have revealed the supreme vision, cooling the burning of worldly suffering like the moon soothing wildfire. After a long time, I have come to know this indestructible knowledge—that whatever this is, however, whenever, and in whatever way it is, so it is.” A calmness settles upon the seeker. “O best of the twice-born, I feel freed from distinctions. This wondrous narration, this explanation, is found in the vision of the scriptures. Yet, O Lord, a doubt remains—please tell me, you who know all. I am not yet satisfied by drinking your nectar-like words through my ears.” Time, in the threefold creation, is the play of the Lord through yoga. Sometimes it is a single day and night, sometimes a month. Sometimes it stretches for many years, or is exceedingly brief for one, extremely long for another, and for yet another, it lasts only a moment. “O venerable one, kindly tell me properly out of compassion. Once heard, it does not bring rest, just as water does not stay on a clod of earth.” Whatever, whenever, and however something is perceived, in that very way and at that very time, it is experienced. Immortality can become poison through constant perception of poison; an enemy can become a friend through the awareness of friendship. As each object is conceived, so is its form; through long practice, that alone comes under the sway of destiny. Consciousness, being one in essence, manifests as it is imagined; thus, it quickly becomes so, due to its own nature. If, in a moment, one perceives a multitude of aeons, then in that very moment, those aeons come to be—of this there is no doubt. If a kalpa perceives itself as a moment, then that kalpa quickly becomes a moment; for consciousness truly takes the form it assumes. For one who suffers, a night feels like an aeon; for the happy, that same night is but a moment. In dreams, a moment may seem an aeon, and an aeon may pass as a moment. In the same way, the seeker recounts experiencing birth after death, youth, remaining in a certain state, and traveling a hundred yojanas—all within a dream. Harishchandra experienced twelve years in a single night; Lavana enjoyed a hundred years of life within one night. A moment for the lord of creatures is the lifetime of Manu; Manu’s lifetime is a day of Brahma, and Brahma’s lifetime is a single day for Vishnu. For one whose mind has dissolved in meditation, there are no days or nights, no objects, no world—not even a self for the yogi. What is sweet may become bitter when thought of with bitterness; what is bitter may turn sweet when regarded with sweetness. An enemy becomes a friend when regarded with the mind of friendship, and a friend becomes an enemy when regarded with hostility. O mighty-armed one, the world is as it is perceived. Those objects which are not practiced—such as recitation and study of scriptures—through repeated awareness, surely become assimilated. For travelers troubled by confusion, the boat moves by awareness; but for those troubled by confusion without awareness, it does not move. Emptiness becomes filled through awareness, as in those who see dreams; by awareness, yellow or white is experienced as tasted. A festival, like a calamity, brings distress to those deeply deluded; conduct is seen in the wall as in space, for one whose elements are disturbed. A false demon steals even the life-breath of the bewildered; by awareness, a dream-woman gives pleasure as if awake. Whatever comes through repeated practice, that attains stability in the same way; it is unreal, like the sky, and exists only in the consciousness-sky. Know the movement of the world to be like the shadow-play of a hundred-hooved horse, spread out in the sky—merely a mental vibration, not a real thing. The vision of the demon of false knowledge is without form; this is only a bodily limitation, obstructive and possessing cracks. This radiant appearance, this vision seen in dream by consciousness, is entirely new, arising for one who is asleep, just as it appears for a man. Just as a wooden pillar, though uncarved, stands unmoving, so does the great pillar of ultimate reality—creation—stand unmoving. As a man, surrounded by mighty warriors, is disturbed in a dream, so is the creation of Brahman for the awakened one, like deep sleep. Just as sap, present in grass, bushes, and creepers, remains on the earth at winter’s end and is established in spring, so too is creation established in the supreme state. Just as liquidity remains within gold, latent and not manifesting outwardly, so creation remains in the supreme, the space-like Self, shining forth in the subtlest of the subtle. And just as the arrangement of limbs is not different from the body itself, so too is the world not different from the formless, space-like Self—the space-like Brahman.