The earth, the water, fire's consuming might,

The moving air, the ether's boundless space,

The thinking mind, the intellect's clear light,

And ego-sense, the self's perceived base—

These eightfold elements, in varied place,

Comprise My lower nature, subtly spun.

A separated form, for time and race,

Through which the world's material course is run.

They form the physical, the mental frame,

The ground of being in the mortal sphere.

Distinct they seem, yet echo still My Name,

The outer garment that I hold so dear.

This Prakriti, My energy displayed,

In eight divisions, by My power made.