Ah, how wondrous is this world! Though it appears before us with such clarity and vastness, so distinct and subtle, it is in truth unreal, yet seems so real to our senses. In the expanse of Brahman—the absolute reality—the very appearance of the world arises as a sphere composed of subtle elements, shining forth like a cluster of inevitable, minute particles, as the wise have heard. O Lord, how does one turn away from this illusion? How is the self established, and how does natural attainment arise? The form of this world is utterly impossible to grasp, for it is nothing other than Brahman’s own nature. Though it is never truly experienced as a separate reality, it appears to us as if directly perceived. Just as in a child’s heart, fanciful words like “hullas,” “sabhullo,” or “ghullāṅgha” arise clearly and playfully, so too does the living being arise within the supreme Brahman, seemingly distinct but never truly apart. This being abides as something unreal, pure, and measurable, yet appears as if it were real. Although it seems separate, it is never apart from Brahman, whose very nature is boundless expansion. The living being, whose life is woven from imagination, swiftly becomes Brahman itself; in the same way, this being quickly becomes the mind, whose essence is thinking and knowing. The mind, which is merely the act of contemplating subtle elements, soon perceives itself as its own nature—this aggregate, light and insubstantial like a puff of wind, flashes forth within the vast space of consciousness. This mind experiences emptiness, like a particle that must exist; its very essence is awareness, and, marked by the flow of time, it becomes established in the self. The living being comes to perceive the meaning of questions such as “Who am I?” and the awareness of limbs. Awareness itself perceives the true meaning of objects and words. With this awareness, the being perceives taste, sound, and meaning, experiencing them for a fleeting moment in the region called the “tongue of feeling.” From such awareness, the living being becomes inclined toward the meaning of sound, and illumination arises in the region known as the “future eye.” In time, with such awareness, he perceives the function of the nose; wherever he is established, the states of sight and other senses remain. In this way, the embodied soul, like the chance meeting of a crow and a palm fruit, gradually perceives the distinctive arrangement of senses and awareness arising within himself. Through hearing, he recognizes the partial presence of sound in this arrangement, whether it is real or unreal, existent or non-existent. He perceives the partial presence of touch through the meaning of skin and sound, and taste through the form of the tongue’s object. He perceives form through the shape of the eye’s object, and smell through the nature of the nose. Thus, this state composed of such qualities is capable of manifesting itself; he perceives that opening in the body called the “future sense organ.” In this way, O Raghava, for the primal living being and for those present now, the apparent self—the transmigrating principle—arises only in the body. The supreme existence, which is beyond all description, seems to take on the role of transmigration; yet, though it appears to come and go, it does not truly move—such is the power of self-imagination. When, through direct knowledge, one realizes that the knower, the known, and the means of knowledge are all only Brahman, then what place is there for talk of transmigration? That alone is the reality. Transmigration is said to be other than Brahman only because of perceiving otherness; but when Brahman alone is known, there is only Brahman—there is no other awareness. If there is truly no possibility of awareness apart from Brahman, then what liberation or inquiry can there be? Enough of these distinctions and divisions. O Rama, your question shines forth only at the time of conclusion; for just as a garland of flowers out of season, though beautiful, does not truly shine, so too words spoken out of their proper time do not fit the occasion. Everything is fitting only in its proper time, just as a garland suits only when offered in season. It is seen that time itself grants both obstacles and permissions; indeed, for all things, their fruition is determined by time. In this way, that individual self, present as the sleeper, perceives within itself, through the passage of time, the state of being a progenitor, now ended. He who, preceded by the awareness of the utterance of Om, beholds the Vedas and rules in the kingdom of his mind, quickly becomes established in that understanding. Knowing this unreal as if it were real, in the space of the pure self, the world—shaped like a mass of mountains—unfolds within that space. Here, nothing is truly born and nothing perishes; the world, like a city of the Gandharvas, is expanded in Brahman alone. Just as the existence of Brahma and other living beings is composed of both reality and unreality, so too is the existence of all, whether serpentine or demonic. This is only the confusion of consciousness; even when it arises thus, it is unreal. From Brahma down to the smallest worm, when true knowledge ceases, so does awareness. Just as Brahma comes into being, so too does the worm; but the worm, due to the dominance of gross elements and the insignificance of its actions, is limited. Whatever life is in a living being, consisting of the inclination toward objects, that alone is his manliness, that alone is his essence, and that alone is his action. From the creation of Brahma down to the destruction of an insect, when the illusion that is mind-only ceases, only pure perception remains. When the objects of knower, means of knowledge, and the known do not exist apart from pure consciousness, then the doctrines of duality and unity are as unreal as a hare’s horn or a lotus growing in the sky. The cosmic egg of Brahma, which seems so firm and real, is only imagined; just as the self, by the action of a silkworm, appears in the form of its own saliva. Whatever is seen by Brahma as real appears in that very way; this is the certain understanding of those who know reality, regarding the nature of things. Whatever thing arises cannot exist even for a moment or an age without its own nature—this is the certain understanding of those who know the truth of things. This which has arisen is unreal, and the unreal alone increases; it experiences only the unreal, and thus, the unreal dissolves back into itself.