O Rama, listen as the mystery of creation unfolds. Sometimes, the worlds arise from Shiva; sometimes, from Brahma, the lotus-born; sometimes, from Vishnu; and at other times, they are shaped by the sages themselves. Brahma’s birth is ever wondrous: at times, he emerges from a lotus, at other times from the waters, sometimes from the cosmic egg, and sometimes he arises from the sky itself. In some universes, the three-eyed Shiva shines as the sun; in others, Indra takes that place; elsewhere, it is Vishnu, the lotus-eyed one; and again, it may be Shiva. With each creation, the earth appears differently: sometimes covered in dense, impenetrable forests; sometimes crowded with multitudes of people; and sometimes adorned with towering mountains. The earth itself transforms—sometimes it is clay, sometimes stone; in some worlds, it is made of smoke, and in others, even of flesh. Here, in this very place, some worlds are of one kind and others of another; some interpenetrate each other, while others remain entirely distinct. Countless worlds arise and dissolve within the vast expanse of Brahman, just as waves rise and fall in the ocean. The glories of the universe are like the waves of the sea, the mirages of the desert, or the blossoms on a mango tree—they all manifest within the Supreme. One may count the motes of dust dancing in a sunbeam, but never the hosts of worlds moving within the reality of Brahman. Like swarms of gnats that arise and perish again and again in the rains over sugarcane fields, so do these creations of worlds come and go. No one knows from what time or for what reason these series of creations, ever arising and dissolving, have begun. Without beginning, they ceaselessly arise and vanish like waves; what was before is succeeded by what came before that, endlessly. The hosts of gods, demons, humans, and all other beings continually arise and dissolve, just as the patterns of waves on a river; such are all classes of beings. Just as this cosmic egg of Brahma exists, so too countless series of universes are exhausted by the thousands, like reeds swept away in a stream over the years. Others now exist, possessing bodies in the present, on the far side of this city of Brahma, in the vast realm of the Absolute. In the Absolute, many other glories of the city of Brahma will arise in the future; in the past, they have perished, appearing and disappearing like spoken words. Within the Absolute, other lines of creation will arise and remain, just as pots emerge from clay, or shoots and leaves from a sprout. As long as there is water in the ocean, so are the waves made of water; likewise, as long as Brahman exists in the space of consciousness, so are the glories of the three worlds. Though these worlds appear vast, transformed, and splendid, when observed closely, they are nothing at all—emerging and submerging, neither truly real nor entirely unreal. They are inert, endowed with qualities, slender as the stalks of the śevala plant, wave-like in nature, and their bodies are seen and then lost. The countless worlds of creation display wondrous movements, marvelous transformations, and varied appearances. All these visions of creation, O Rama, are not separate from the Supreme Lord; they pertain to the knower of truth, just as rains arise from water. Creations arise from the Divine, just as rains come from clouds; all are born from That alone, like visions from light. Though these visions of creation are not separate from the Supreme Lord, they appear distinct, like the spikes on the silk-cotton tree. Among these creations, O Raghava, some are excellent, some inferior; yet the Supreme remains, touched only by the subtle impurity of space. Sometimes, space first attains stability, then Brahma is born from it, the progenitor arising from space. Sometimes, air first attains stability, then Brahma is born from air. Sometimes, water first attains fullness, then Brahma is born from water. Sometimes, the earth first expands, and from it, Brahma arises, the lord of creatures. When the four elements are compressed and the fifth increases, then, by the force of that, O Lord, the ruler performs the activity of the world. Sometimes, in water or in air, or even in the greatly expanded fire, some person arises naturally from the element itself. From the mouth of that person, sometimes a foot is born; sometimes from the shoulder or the back, sometimes from the eye or the hand. Sometimes, from the navel of this person, a lotus is born; in that lotus, Brahma moves—he is called the lotus-born. All this is illusion, a delusion like a dream, a wheel fashioned falsely, fickle and charming as a kingdom of the mind, lovely as the play of water. What in this awareness truly exists, and how can it arise here? Otherwise, it is only a child’s fantasy being pursued. Sometimes, in the clear sky, through the coloring of the mind-principle, a golden cosmic egg, the womb of Brahma, spontaneously arises. At times, this person emits his potency into water; from that, a lotus arises, which becomes the cosmic egg or the great principle. From that, Brahma is born; sometimes he is the sun, sometimes Varuna is Brahma, sometimes the wind is born from the lotus. Thus, in these creations lacking internal unity and full of variety, O Rama, the diverse origins of Brahma have taken many forms. For the sake of illustration, I have described the origin of this one Prajapati; the birth of others, O sinless one, is similar. Such is the wondrous play of creation—ever-changing, diverse, and yet rooted in the Supreme, beyond all names and forms.