O Rama, behold the countless worlds, each filled with wondrous movements and transformations—marvelous forms arising and dissolving in endless variety. These visions of creation are not separate from the Supreme Lord; rather, they are ever rooted in the knower of truth, just as rains are born from water itself. All that is seen springs forth from the Divine, just as showers descend from the clouds, or as visions arise from the presence of light. Though these myriad manifestations seem distinct, like the many spikes on a silk-cotton tree, in truth, they are never apart from the Supreme Lord. Within this vast display, some creations shine with excellence while others appear inferior, yet the Supreme remains untouched, tainted only by the subtlest impurity of space. At times, space itself first attains stability, and from that stable space, Brahma is born—the great progenitor emerging from the womb of space. In other cycles, it is air that finds stability first, and from air, Brahma arises. Sometimes, water reaches fullness, and from that fullness, Brahma is born. There are also times when the earth expands, and from that expansion, Brahma, the lord of creatures, emerges. When four of the elements compress and the fifth swells in strength, then, by that force, O Lord, the ruler of the world sets creation in motion. Sometimes, within water or air, or even in the greatly expanded fire, a person arises naturally from the very element itself. From the mouth of such a being, a foot may be born; from the shoulder or back, from the eye or hand—each time, forms emerge in wondrous ways. At times, a lotus springs forth from this being’s navel, and within that lotus, Brahma moves—hence, he is called the lotus-born. Yet, know this, O Rama: all these are but illusions, like dreams or the playful whorls of water, charming and fickle as a kingdom of the mind, beautiful yet insubstantial. What, then, truly exists in this awareness? How could these forms arise here, if not as the fleeting fantasies of a child? Sometimes, in the clear sky, colored by the mind’s imagination, a golden cosmic egg—the womb of Brahma—spontaneously appears. At other times, the being emits his potency into the waters, and from that, a lotus arises, which becomes the cosmic egg or the great principle. From this, Brahma is born; sometimes as the sun, sometimes as Varuna, sometimes the wind itself emerges from the lotus. Thus, O Rama, in these creations—lacking internal unity and filled with variety—the origins of Brahma have taken many forms. For the sake of illustration, I have described the birth of this one Prajapati, but know, O sinless one, that the birth of others follows a similar pattern. This expansion of the mind is what the wise call “worldly existence.” The process of creation has been explained to you for your awakening. Thus, the births that begin with the sattvic quality have come about; all this has been recounted for your understanding. Again and again, creation arises and dissolves; again sorrow, again joy; again ignorance, again the knowledge that dispels it; again bondage, again liberation. The creators of creation themselves, sustained by their own absorbed affection, are like lamps: having shone their light, they are extinguished, only to arise anew. When bodies, lamps, and even gods arise and dissolve, and when time itself relinquishes its hold, there remains no distinction in their destruction—all are equal in their passing. Again the Krita age, again the Treta, again the Dvapara and Kali—each returns as the world turns on the endless wheel of time. Once more come the beginnings of Manvantaras, again the succession of Kalpas; the phases of activity repeat, just as morning follows morning, day by day. Worlds and non-worlds, time and non-time, measured intervals and those beyond measure—all this repeats endlessly, and yet, again and again, it is as if nothing ever truly arises. In the unstruck, heated mass—like sparks of fire within a lump of iron—these states exist perpetually in the vast space of consciousness, by their very nature. Sometimes unmanifest, sometimes manifest, all this exists within the supreme reality, like a tree appearing in its proper season. The vibration of consciousness alone is the essence of all; from this vibration, creation arises, just as duality appears to the eye. All the continuous visions of creation converge in consciousness; whether they seem to abide in it or not, they are like rays streaming from the moon. This so-called samsara—worldly existence—never truly exists at any time, for within the all-powerful reality, there is the capacity for non-samsara. Nor is the world ever without its nature, for in the all-powerful reality, there is also the capacity for samsara. If one considers the entire span up to a great aeon as devoid of samsara, then it is reasonable to say that samsara does not exist now. With the vision of knowledge, all this is indeed Brahman alone, O wise one; thus, the absence of samsara is established for us. But when seen through the eyes of ignorance, due to the unbroken experience of worldly existence, this samsara-maya appears eternal—this, too, is established. Because it is repeatedly conceived, this world is never without such a nature; thus, what is said about the world, O descendant of Raghu, is not false. If one looks to the directions where things continually fall and perish, it is clear that this entire world is perishable. Yet, seeing the directions where the sun and moon always rise, and the mountains stand firm, it is equally fitting to say that this entire world is imperishable. Thus, O Rama, the mystery of creation, its arising and dissolution, its joys and sorrows, its bondage and liberation, is but the play of consciousness—eternal, ever-changing, and ultimately one with the Supreme.