The way of verse 21
Those who proclaim to know the way
have obliterated it, and become lost.
The delicate weave of a spider’s web carried on
the breeze rewards the patient ones with beauty.
Unraveling that which is already complete, the luminous
hues of delicate tapestry transfigures into useless chaotic threads.
The unskilled attempt to build more of what is already
too much. Skill innovates from the not yet imagined.
Surrounded by the present. The empty, the not present,
the infinite void caresses the midwife of creation.
It is common to name a child at birth. Can we be certain that
the Name is water for a seed and not the first death knell sounding?
Every day we murder each other in dispute over
ideas. Time now, for some ideas to die.