O Rama, consider the story of the mind, that subtle presence dwelling within the intricate web of elements it has itself imagined. Ensnared by its own creations, it falls into utter helplessness, like a mighty lion chained and rendered powerless. Driven by the force of deep-seated tendencies, this mind assumes countless roles, becoming the doer of myriad actions, and thus, new states and experiences arise, shaped solely by its own will. At times, it is called the mind; at others, the intellect. Sometimes it is known as knowledge, sometimes as action itself. It is also called ego, and at times, the subtle body. People describe it variously: sometimes as nature, sometimes as illusion; sometimes again as mind, or as action established in the world. It is called bondage, or simply the mind; sometimes ignorance, sometimes desire. This, O Raghava, is the mind bound here in this world—afflicted with sorrow, seized by craving and grief, the very abode of disease, and ever suffering. It is tormented by the delusions of old age and death, struck down by the imagination of worldly existence, seized by the consequences of actions done and left undone, and stained by the darkness of ignorance. Its form is contracted by desire, the fresh shoot from the tree of action, its true origin utterly forgotten, forever fabricating imagined misfortunes. Like the worm that spins its own cocoon and becomes trapped within it, so too is the mind bound, composed of subtle elements, scorched by the heat of countless hells. Though invisible, it bears a weight as great as a mountain, adorned with the branches of old age and death—this tree of worldly existence, poisonous and dreadful. The whole of worldly existence is bound by the cords of hope, yet within it lies only fruitlessness, like a banyan seed containing a barren tree. Burnt by the flames of anxious thought, chewed by the serpent of anger, and tossed by the waves of the ocean of desire, the mind forgets its own source and origin. Like a deer separated from its herd, it is afflicted by sorrow; like a moth scorched in a blazing fire, it is consumed by the fire of sense-objects. Like a lotus whose root has been severed, it withers and falls, hope lost, displaced from its true place, enduring hardship in a foreign land. In the midst of sensory pleasures, among those appearing as friends or foes, the mind is tossed about in countless states, greatly troubled in difficult circumstances. It falls into intense suffering, like a bird caught in a snare, bound in the net of the world, lost in the emptiness of the illusory city of the Gandharvas. Driven by sense-objects, the mind is swept away in the ocean of misfortune. O Rama, lift it up, as one would rescue an elephant from the mud, with the strength of immortality. The mind, sunk like an ox in the marsh of thought, its limbs wounded and torn—raise it forcefully, O Rama. One whose mind, even when afflicted by the flow of good and evil, scorched by old age, death, and sorrow, does not give rise to compassion—such a person, O Rama, is a demon among men. Thus, O Rama, countless living beings are destroyed by the thoughts of worldly existence that arise from the mind, and so they remain, lacking the true form of Brahman. They have been born in the past beyond counting, are being born even now everywhere, and others will arise, like endless streams of particles from a waterfall. Overpowered by the force of their own tendencies, they become subject to desires, bound by their own intentions in varied and countless conditions. Unceasingly, in every direction and every region, on water and on land, beings are born and die, like bubbles in water. Some are experiencing their first birth, some have gone beyond the compulsion of birth, some have countless births behind them, and some are separated by hundreds of births. Some are yet to be born, some were great beings of the past, some exist now, and some have already ceased to be. Some are born again and again for thousands of aeons, always entering the same kind of womb, while others take refuge in different forms. Some are struck by great suffering, some remain in early youth, some rise to the utmost heights, and some shine forth like the sun. There are those who are kinnaras, gandharvas, vidyādharas, or great serpents; some are born from the sun, Indra, Varuṇa, the three-eyed one, the lord of the lower realms, or from Brahmā himself. Others are kumbhāṇḍas, ghosts, yakṣas, rākṣasas, or piśācas; some are known as brāhmaṇas, kings, merchants, or śūdras. Some are dog-eaters, caṇḍālas, kirātas, khaśas, or pukkasas; some have become grass, herbs, leaves, fruits, or roots. Some are dried up by forest creepers, bushes, grasses, and dew; some are kadamba, jambu, sala, tala, and tamala trees. Some are kings of territories, intoxicated by the possession of wealth; some, clothed in bark garments, have taken refuge in the silence of sages. Others are snakes, cows, elephants, worms, insects, and ants; some are lions, buffaloes, deer, bears, yaks, and antelopes. Some are cranes, chakravaka ducks, herons, crows, and cuckoos; some have become lotuses, water-lilies, white lotuses, and blue lotuses. Some are camels, elephants, moths, bulls, and donkeys; some are bees, mosquitoes, flies, gnats, and those born in the line of biting insects. Some are overcome by misfortune, some have attained prosperity; some remain in the city of heaven, and some have entered hell. Some are situated in the circle of stars, others in the hollows of trees; some abide in the form of wind, and some are established in the realm of space. Some are established in the rays of the sun, some in the rays of the moon; some dwell in the sweet sap of grasses, creepers, and bushes. Among all these, some who are liberated while living wander here, vessels of auspiciousness; some who are long-liberated remain, matured in the supreme. Some, after a long time, will attain liberation, though they may be deceitful; some, with ill intent, despise the state of pure selfhood. Thus, O Rama, is the endless play of the mind and the countless forms of existence, all bound by their own tendencies, hopes, and forgetfulness of their true origin.