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The Way is empty;
Yet when you use it, you never need fill it again.
Like an abyss! It seems to be the ancestor of the ten thousand things.

It files down sharp edges;
Unties the tangles;
Softens the glare;
And settles the dust.

Submerged! It seems perhaps to exist.
We don't know whose child it is;
It seems to have even preceded the Lord.