The way of verse 21 Those who proclaim to know the way have obliterated it, and become lost. The delicate weave of a spiders web carried on the breeze rewards the patient ones with beauty. Unraveling that which is already complete, the intricate 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 coffin nail? Every day we murder each other in dispute over ideas. It is time for some ideas to die instead.
Our path follows us, Knowing that we were never lost, The path of no path. Is it possible to follow someone else to a place only you can go?