Tao is empty-
Its use never exhausted.
The origin of all things.
It blunts sharp edges,
Becomes one with the dusty world.
I don’t know whose child it is.
It is older than the Ancestor.
This is my attempt to keep the format of how these passages are typed in the book. For some reason the blog site refuses to keep it as I type it rather mashes it all together as a weird poem.