Abiding in the supreme, infinite expanse, possessing the highest and purest form, the great one—Brahma—creates his own dwelling by the effortless play of his mind. Remaining established in himself, he manifests, at times, pure space alone, undivided and free from all distinction; at other times, he becomes pure water, endless and without beginning, middle, or end. Sometimes, the creation is adorned with the radiance of flames, like fire blazing at the end of an age; sometimes, it takes the shape of a beautiful forest, or the closed bud of a lotus at the navel. By his own will, this sovereign effortlessly brings forth countless different seats—varied in form and nature—for each and every birth. From among these, when he first descends from the state of Brahman, then, owing to the power of knowledge, his own body is perceived as well-formed. When the slumber of the womb departs, he beholds a radiant body, vibrant with the flow of prāṇa and apāna, constructed solely from the elements. This body is covered with the tips of hairs, furnished with thirty-two teeth, supported by three pillars, possessed of fifteen deities, and marked below by the soles of the feet. It is divided into five parts, has nine gates, smooth limbs smeared with unguents, equipped with twenty fingers and marked by twenty nails. There are two arms, two breasts, two eyes—or sometimes many shoulders and arms. It becomes the nest for the bird of the mind, the cave for the serpent of desire. It is the dwelling of the demoness of thirst, the cave of the lion called the soul, the stable of the elephant of pride, and it is adorned by the lotus-face. Beholding his own radiant and supreme form, Brahma, the blessed one whose vision is pure across the three times, began to reflect: "In this cave of space, on this shore adorned with honey, endless and without boundary, what was there first?" Thus pondering, Brahma—newly arisen, with a stainless vision of the Self—saw countless past creations that had already vanished. He then recalled all the Vedas, complete with their sequences of duties and qualities, as one remembers blossoms in spring—joined with speech and meaning. Effortlessly, he created various beings born of thought, each with their own customs and undertakings, as a Gandharva might fashion a city from imagination. For their sake—so that they might attain heaven, liberation, and the fulfillment of duty, desire, and wealth—he composed countless wondrous scriptures. Thus, O Rama, this creation came to abide in its cycle, as flowers blossom in spring, taking form through the mind of Brahma. By manifold arrangements and playful acts, by the mind taking the form of the lotus-born, O son of Raghu, the glory of creation was established in this world in an incomparable way. Yet, when all this is accomplished, nothing remains established; only the vast emptiness of space, the supreme play of the mind. In this, neither place nor time exists anywhere within the cosmic egg, not even in the slightest, though it appears grand and sky-like. All this is but the essence of thought, like a city seen in a dream; wherever it appears, there is nothing but pure space. Even the construction of walls and their coloring, though seen, are not real; what is unmade seems made—a marvelous painting in the sky. Everything—the body and the three worlds—are imagined by the mind; this is the cause of transmigration, just as vision is caused by the eye. The world is only an appearance, unfolding through pots, huts, and cloths; they do not exist as real things, nor are walls and such separately established. This body itself is fashioned by the mind for dwelling, just as a worm makes its own cocoon. There is nothing that does not exist, nor any name, which the mind, slow in resolve, does not create or attain—even what is difficult or inaccessible. In the Supreme, who possesses all powers, what can truly be called a separate power? There are none; it is only by these that the inner cave of the mind appears to be veiled. O mighty-armed one, the existence or non-existence of all things always arises only because the all-powerful, all-pervading One is present. See how the lotus-born body is attained through imagination by the mind; therefore, O Rama, know that all manifestation arises endowed with all power. Gods, demons, humans, and animals are created by their own thoughts at the beginning of creation; when those thoughts subside, they are extinguished, like lamps without oil. See, O great intellect, this world, which is like space, is merely an expansion of imagination—a long dream that has arisen. No one here is ever truly born or dies; in reality, O wise one, all activity is illusory. Where nothing ever increases or perishes, what could possibly be destroyed there, as in a forest of lines drawn in the air? You do not see your own body, which is a product of delusion, with keen insight; O Raghava, with your heart afflicted by sorrow, why do you speak like one who is ignorant? Just as the mirage appears due to intense heat, so too, through the force of the mind, all these beings—even Brahma and the rest—are seen, though they are not real. All the forms in the world arise like the illusion of two moons or as fanciful daydreams, being entirely composed of false knowledge. Just as those riding a boat mistakenly perceive stationary objects as moving, so too, the succession of forms always arises falsely, without reality. Know this to be a magical illusion, a cage woven by maya; it is a creation of the mind's imagination, neither truly existent nor non-existent. This entire world is Brahman alone; where then is the possibility of otherness? What sort of connection could there be, who is that, and where does it abide? This mountain, this tree—such displays are mere illusions; due to the mind's strong imagination, the unreal appears as if it were real.