A Poem by a Taoist:
Into a soul absolutely free
From thoughts and emotion,
Even the tiger finds no room
To insert its fierce claws
One and the same breeze passes
Over the pines on the mountain
And the oak tress in the valley;
And why do they give different notes
No thinking, no reflecting,
Perfect emptiness;
Yet therein something moves,
Following its own course
The eye sees it,
But no hand can take hold of it –
The moon in the stream
Clouds and mists
They are midair transformations;
Above them eternally shine the sun and the moon
Victory is for the one,
Even before combat,
Who has no thought of himself,
Abiding is the no-mind-ness of Great Origin
▶️ 3Speak
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