There was something formless and perfect
before the universe was born.
It is serene. Empty.
Solitary. Unchanging.
Infinite. Eternally present.
It is the mother of the universe.
For lack of a better name,
I call it the Tao.
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I don’t know what to name it, call it, explain it. I can “style” it with words that never stop, until they do. Words heaped miles high in piles. One over the other, one sitting beneath another.
ReplyDeleteMind cannot comprehend the individual within the all. The taste of one is cancelled there being too many tastes to taste. The scent of the second cancels scent of the first and so on and so forth with the third to the second.
Click to customize and choose to take them all. Flatten layers of words one on top of the other. Nothing is lost. The gain is One.
All these words, the over and under word of word: see all in one great glance; hear all in one syllabic sound; touch all in one full stroke with our own two hands.
One is inclusive, holding all of everything else. “And the Way models itself on that which is so on its own.
(line 20 R.G. Henricks, ch25)
wow you have a way with words. this is a favorite of mine.
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