Creation and dissolution turn like breath — sṛṣṭi and pralaya, endlessly, with no first beginning and no final end.
At the end of Brahmā's day the worlds are withdrawn into an unmanifest state (pralaya), and created again at the start of the next day — an endless rhythm of manifestation and rest.
— Bhagavad Gītā 8.18–19; Purāṇas
The same rhythm of rising and resting moves through your own days, breaths, and seasons of life. When something ends, can you meet it not as loss but as pralaya — a withdrawing that makes room for what will arise again? Rest in the One who neither rises nor sets while all things come and go.
A poetic teaching to sit with and contemplate.
Where some traditions imagine a single creation, the vision here is fundamentally cyclic. At the dawn of Brahmā's day the myriad beings emerge from the unmanifest; at nightfall they are withdrawn again into pralaya, dissolved into seed, to arise once more when the next day breaks. The cosmos breathes — out into manifestation, in toward rest — and this rhythm has neither a first beginning nor a last end. It simply is the play of the Divine.
For the seeker the teaching is steadying. Endings are not final; they are the in-breath of a rhythm that will breathe out again. Yet the Gītā points past the wheel itself: beyond the manifest and the unmanifest alike is the Imperishable that does not perish when all beings perish. To identify with the turning world is to be carried helplessly by its cycles; to rest in that changeless ground is to stand, unshaken, where sṛṣṭi and pralaya come and go like day and night over an unmoving sky.