14: The Elusive Tao


We look but don’t see it and call it indistinct

We listen but don’t hear it and call it faint

We reach but don’t grasp it and call it ethereal

Three failed means to knowledge I weave into one

With no light above and no shadow below

Too fine to be named

Returning to nothing

This is the formless form

The immaterial image

The one that waxes and wanes

We meet without seeing its face

We follow without seeing its back

Whoever upholds this very Way can rule this very real

And discover the ancient maiden

This is the thread of the Way

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