Birth is the harbinger of death,
and light the mother of darkness.
Beauty is the child of ugliness,
and ecstacy the handmaid of misery.
Partners in the dance.
Water hints at the mystery.
Humble and mighty in concert.
On its path to low places,
oceans are born.
Stones blocking its flow
are skirted.
In quietly yielding,
canyons become.
Process without goal.
The Dao does not defy description,
yet is ineffable.
In trying to understand it,
do nothing.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
27 December 2025
