Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Chapter One - The End
And in the early morning hours of a bitter December Tuesday (heh… Tuesday), with waves of a newborn wind pounding at his windows and the last wisps of a dying spirit slipping from his soul, he found there was nothing left…
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Tao Te Jing - Chapter 11
We join spokes together in a wheel,
but it is the center hole
that makes the wagon move.
We shape clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want.
We hammer wood for a house,
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable.
We work with being,
but non-being is what we use.
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