We see the trees a swaying
In the gentle breeze
The swooping of the robin
The very soul is pleased
But something that is unseen
Lies underneath the scene
‘Tis not the branch that moveth
But the space that’s in between
The things, they draw attention
Seeing not the air around
Is not this also substance
But never as renowned
This nothing some have called the Tao
The source behind all flow
Directly may be experienced
But never really known
The wind that drives the tempest
Or floats the feather down
Could this all be a symbol of
The Spirit all around
When the mind is silent
An empty windless sky
No separate forms there seem to be
But a glimmer of the Why
Enter in this sacred space
Perceive, but do not name
Be the Oneness, beyond all form
You’ve just begun the Game

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