The Way, how like an empty vessel,
yet it never needs refilling.
Bottomless it is,
like the wellspring of creation.

It blunts sharp edges,
unravels knots,
softens glare,
and settles clouds of dust.

Submerged deeply, obscurely seen.
Who knows wherefrom?
It echoes from the time before time.

© Douglas Allchin 2002-2008