The great masters of ancient times focused on the indiscernible and penetrated the dark
You would never know them
And because you wouldn’t know them I describe them with reluctance
They were careful as if crossing a river in winter
Cautious as if worried about neighbours
Reserved like a guest
Ephemeral like melting ice
Simple like uncarved wood
Open like a valley
And murky like a puddle
But those who can be like a puddle
Become clear when they’re still
And those who can be at rest
Become alive when they’re roused
Those who treasure this Way don’t try to be seen
Not trying to be seen they can hide and stay hidden