Listen, dear one, to the subtle nature of this world and its play within consciousness. There is a false demon that can even steal away the very life-breath of those who are bewildered, lost in delusion. Just as, in a dream, a woman can give pleasure as though one were awake, so too do the illusions of the world seem real to the unaware. Whatever is practiced again and again becomes stable in its own way, yet this stability is as unreal as the sky itself—existing only within the vast expanse of consciousness. The movement of the world is like the fleeting shadow of a hundred-hooved horse racing across the open sky—nothing but a ripple of the mind, not a thing of substance. The vision conjured by the demon of false knowledge has no true form; it is a limitation of the body, full of cracks and obstructions. All this radiant appearance, this vision seen by consciousness in dream, is entirely new each time it arises for one who is asleep, just as it appears for a man in his dreams. Like an uncarved wooden pillar standing unmoving, so does the great pillar of ultimate reality—creation itself—stand unmoving, untouched by the passing show. Imagine a man, surrounded by mighty warriors, disturbed in his dream; so too is the creation of Brahman for the awakened one—like the stillness of deep sleep. Just as sap remains hidden in grass, bushes, and creepers through the winter and becomes manifest in spring, so is creation established in the supreme state, latent and then revealed. As liquidity remains within gold, unseen and unexpressed, so creation remains in the supreme, space-like Self, shining forth in the subtlest of ways. The arrangement of limbs is not different from the body itself; likewise, the world is not separate from the formless, space-like Self, the space-like Brahman. In a dream, a single man may fight with another, yet both are but the fabric of dream; so too is this world, with its nature of existence and non-existence, belonging to the space-like Self, pervading all. At the beginning and end of great cycles, this form—whose nature is consciousness—arises, but later, through mutual causation, it is recognized as unreal, not truly existent. Should another Brahman appear in this liberated Brahman, arising from memory, that memory itself, being of the nature of cognition, would seem to be creation—yet it is only pure cognition. Consider, how did the lineage of Viduratha appear equally to all the chief ministers of ancient times? All principal cognitions follow the chief mind, just as gusts of wind follow a great storm. Through mutual experience, these cognitions take on similar forms among rulers, subjects, and ministers within a kingdom. Thus, those who know the reality in Viduratha’s city say, “This is our king, born from such a lineage,” or words to that effect. In the nature of consciousness, there is no need to seek a cause, just as the radiance of a great jewel arises naturally from its own essence. Even the customs of lineage and the kingship of the land are but the radiance of insight arising from the jewel of Viduratha’s knowledge. As many beings as there are, in whatever creation and at whatever time, all attain mutual recognition due to the all-pervading nature of consciousness. That awareness which is unconstructed and swift alone attains supreme steadiness, being of the single nature of liberation. Through the mutual succession of powerful displays, natures reflect one another, just as consciousness, by its own nature, is like a mirror. There, the one who prevails is that awareness which, by utmost effort, assimilates all others—like a river drawing smaller streams into itself as it flows to the ocean. Here, as long as these aggregates strive by the nature of consciousness, one ultimately prevails, while the other is submerged. In the arising and perishing of countless worlds, at every instant, in every atom, this process occurs again and again. Yet, nothing is truly pervaded by anything, nor does anything truly abide anywhere; all this is the space of consciousness, unborn, peaceful, and undivided. This dream appears without sleep and without a perceiver; its certainty of existence is known, yet, though experienced, it is made of non-being. Just as a single tree, resting in itself, is the source of flowers, leaves, fruits, and branches, so too does the infinite, all-powerful One alone exist. The unborn state, composed of measure, knower, and known, never falls into forgetfulness of awakened awareness, at any time, for anyone. That one reality, pure from beginningless time, is beyond rise and setting, darkness and light, direction and time; it remains ever clear, without beginning, middle, or end, like water—single, unmoving, and free from any agitation. The essential nature of the world, manifesting as ‘I’, ‘you’, and so on, shines forth as the single radiance of pure awareness; in the space of consciousness, its own emptiness alone exists. Where then are the notions of duality, unity, or any conceptual distinctions? This delusion, “I am the world,” arises without any external cause. O Brahman, tell me again: how does it come about? Because all experiences are found equally within, always and in every way, the unborn one is all, the one self of all. All the powers signified by words like “all” and “beginning” are only Brahman, not separate; their forms as the meanings of such words do not exist apart from That. Just as braceletness is not separate from gold, nor waveness from water, so too the world does not exist apart from the Lord. The Lord alone is the form of the world, but the world-form is not the Lord; gold alone is braceletness, but braceletness is not gold. Just as the form of a composite object consists of many parts, so too, consciousness—though without parts—is the essence of all. That which, at the same time, is the awareness of all subtle elements within the Supreme, appears internally as this world and as the sense of ‘I’. Just as the arrangement of many lines within a stone creates distinctions, so too, within the solid mass of consciousness, the world and the sense of ‘I’ appear as if separate, though they are not. As waves remain in water, stirred by other waves, so too, within the Supreme, creations exist internally, devoid of the real meaning of creation. Thus, all this world, its creation, and dissolution, its sense of self and other, are nothing but the play of consciousness—ever pure, ever undivided, and ever free.